Close Only Counts in Hand Grenades
by sammyiammy
Summary: The only George Weasley wedding Katie Bell ever expect to attend was her own. So, when she finds herself forced to watch Angelina living out her teenage dream, it's no wonder it all goes a bit tits up.
1. Chapter 1

Katie was half-naked and dripping wet when George apparated into her shower. As nonchalantly as if he had walked in through the front door, he stepped onto the slick tile before her and flashed a charming grin. Katie shrieked. In one fluid, almost practiced movement, he took another step towards her and clamped a hand over her mouth, pushing her bare back against the towel rack. Muffled though it was, she managed another scream before he cut her off.

"You're going to wake the Mahotras," he scolded, still grinning. "And then they'll send Neal over and Alicia will start fancying him again and then what are we going to do?"

The Mahotras were a lovely couple of Healers who worked the night shift and lived in the flat next door with their adult son, Neal. Neal was tall, skinny, and perpetually frowning. The only reason Alicia had fancied him in the first place was because she mistook their rent control for a large amount of family money. This was all irrelevant to the fact that George Weasley was in her flat's toilet at half seven with one hand keeping her silent and the other on her waist. This was not the first time they'd been in this situation, but it was certainly the least lurid.

"Mmpfh," she protested.

"You have to promise not to scream again," he said. His hand was starting to get clammy. She wanted to rip it off, but she was a bit busy keeping the slip of a towel on her body. "Do you promise?"

"Mmmpfh," she agreed.

He removed his hand from her mouth. The one on her waist, keeping her from toppling over due to her not exactly steady footing, stayed.

"What in Merlin's sodding name are you doing here?" she asked, halfway between a whisper and a shout.

With an awkward shrug, he said, "Angelina sent me. She's a bit put off that you still haven't RSVP'd, considering that it's tomorrow."

"I agreed to be a bridesmaid, didn't I?" she snapped. The current number one rule in Katie and Alicia's flat was 'don't talk about the wedding'. She was doing her absolute best to put it from her mind. Punishment for bringing it up included having to apologize profusely and do all the dishes in the sink. There was no way for George to know this, but, nonetheless, she did not appreciate the violation.

"Angelina says," he went on, slowly, as if he was trying to remember her exact phrasing, "that there's no way for her to do seating arrangements if she doesn't know who you're bringing. Something about not wanting to have any rows at the wedding."

Katie flinched at the word. George let go of her, took a step backwards and bumped up against the sink. The foggy reflection of the red of his hair was easier to look at than the earnest expression on his stupid, dopey, handsome face.

"So," he said, twiddling his thumbs. "If you'd just tell me I can let you go about your very important day working in the complaints department."

She clutched at the opportunity to change the subject. "Human and being resources. And don't make fun of my job."

"It's not really a job though, is it?" he said. "It's more sitting around and listening to people whinge all day."

"And getting paid for it."

He made a conceding noise. "And getting paid for it."

For a long second, the two of them stared at anything but each other. George broke first. "I really do need to know who you're bringing. Angelina's going mental getting ready for tomorrow. She'll murder me if I come back and don't know."

Katie's mind raced. The reason she hadn't told Angelina who she was bringing – beside the fact that they hadn't really spoken since the bridal shower, including at her hen party – was that she hadn't asked anyone. She wasn't sure who there was to ask. Oliver was right out. Alicia had snatched him up not two hours after receiving her invitation, despite the fact that he was rumoured to be seeing Penelope Clearwater. Lee was bringing some blonde bartender he'd met on a bender a few months before. Towler had gotten even odder since graduation, to the point of insufferability. Roger Davies was, for reasons Katie was not entirely sure of, bringing Lavender Brown. Katie's own romantic prospects were currently limited to the cute waiter at Rosa Lee's that flirted with Alicia more than he did her.

So it was a surprise even to her when she blurted out a name she generally tried her best not to say out loud. "Cormac McLaggen."

George let out a crow of laughter before his face dropped entirely. "You're being serious?"

Katie pulled her towel up to cover more of her chest and inadvertently revealed a good part of her upper thigh. George's eyes remained trained on hers. After a small, dry cough, she said, "More or less."

"You're bringing Cormac McLaggen to my wedding?"

 _Apparently_ , she thought. What she said out loud was, "I'm bringing Cormac McLaggen to your wedding. Who else was I supposed to take?"

A tic was starting up on the left side of his face. "Anyone else, Katherine Anne. Anyone fucking else."

Not entirely in control of what she was saying now, Katie answered, "Well excuse me, George Fabian, but my only boyfriend is a bit taken."

A noise that was not anything approaching an intelligible word escaped from his mouth. A muscle in his jaw twitched. He backed further into the sink, almost to the point of bending backwards.

"Would you rather I came by myself?"

It was clear on George's face that he wanted to say yes. Instead, he forced out, "No."

And with that, he disapparated.

"Shit!"

A small knock on the door stopped her from punching any of the innocent objects in the bathroom. Without waiting for her to answer, Alicia pulled it open and stepped into the bathroom. "What's going on?"

Katie tugged at the edge of her towel. "I just told George that I'm bringing Cormac tomorrow."

Alicia's eyebrows flew so far up that they almost joined up with her hair. "Are you?"

"Well now I've said it," she answered, "I feel like I have to."

Brow still furrowed in deepest concern, Alicia said gravely, "Ang is going to go absolutely mad. You know she literally celebrated when she found out he couldn't try out her year as Captain. Not to mention Ge—"

"Don't say his name right now."

"But you—" Alicia swallowed her protest, as well as a large bite of the toast she had clutched in one hand. "Never mind. You haven't asked Cormac, have you? Or have you and just not told me, because, in that case, I do not appreciate the deceit, Katie."

"I haven't asked him."

"Oh," she said, and launched into elaborate plan-making that lasted throughout Katie getting dressed and most of the way through her walk to work. Despite the fact that the Witch Weekly offices were on the other side of Wizarding London, Alicia insisted on accompanying her to the Ministry. It took until just before the entrance loo for her to come to a breakthrough. "You know, I think players were meant to come to the B.I.Q.L. headquarters this week to re-up their personal information. Weight, height, marital status. Et cetera."

"Unless I get a time turner," Katie huffed, "that does me absolutely no good."

"Yeah," said Alicia. "But what if he hasn't registered yet? It's still this week. Would you say he had a tendency to procrastinate in school?"

Unlike Alicia, Katie didn't pay much attention to the private lives of the boys populating the halls at Hogwarts. Except for one. And also Roger Davies, when he wasn't being a self-absorbed tosser. While she was thoroughly familiar with his antics on the pitch, Cormac could have turned in the most brilliant essays in the history of Transfiguration and Katie wouldn't have noticed.

"I don't know," she admitted.

"That's fine!" Alicia said with a sly grin. She was beginning to get a bit manic, as she usually did when Katie let her talk for too long without providing direction. "We'll go up to the headquarters ourselves to pay Lee a visit. He'll love it. He does absolutely nothing when there's not a match going on. That's half the reason why he's willing to be my 'anonymous source' on articles."

"Alicia," Katie said, and placed a hand on her roommate's thin shoulder. "Go to work."

The smaller girl let out a noise of derision. "But how are you going to—"

"I'll figure it out." This was likely a lie, but Alicia needn't know that. Her bosses may have loved her for all the inside information she had on the players of the British and Irish Quidditch League, but that didn't mean they wouldn't mind her coming into work three hours late with no explanation other than 'Katie needed a date'. "Go to work."

Gladys Prescott had never looked so beautiful as she did when Katie finally made her way into the Ministry's human resources division. She may have been a pain to work with, but she had no qualms lying to supervision and that was exactly what Katie needed.

"Gladys," she said, and sidled up to her blue-haired coworker's desk. Broad-shouldered, red-faced and often clad in faux leather, Gladys had all the rage of a sixties feminist boiling within her eighteen-year-old body. Her desk was cluttered with pamphlets and pins. "Could you do me a favour?"

"What is it, Bell?"

"If anyone asks, could you tell them that I've gone off to the toilets?"

Without taking even a glance up from the form she was filling out in her flowery handwriting, she said, "Yeah, alright."

Katie was off without another word.

Lee Jordan's office couldn't really fairly be called an office. The commentators were all crammed into a u-shaped cluster of desks just after the entrance to the B.I.Q.L. headquarters on the seventh floor. The only privacy he had was if he hid behind the large, fake plant adorning his desk. Katie parked herself just in front of it, on top of some official-looking papers.

"Well, good morning to you, too." Lee leaned back in his rolling desk chair and placed both hands behind his neck, below the waterfall of dreads tied neatly up with an electric blue hair band. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

With anyone else, Katie would have at least spared a moment for a greeting. Lee, however, required no such courtesy to keep his spirits up. "I need to know if the Magpies have come in yet this week."

Lee's tawny eyes narrowed. "Are you being serious?"

"Yes," said Katie. She took a deep breath and went on, "I told George this morning that I'm bring Cormac tomorrow. I haven't seen Cormac in months. But Alicia told me that he might come by here sometime today, so I'm hedging my bets on that enormous coincidence so I don't have to go stag."

For a moment, Lee was speechless. He settled forward in his chair. "Ignoring all of that," he said, and she could almost see a smile start to form on his lips, "I asked if you were serious because I can literally see the captain from where I'm sitting. They're queued up outside the director's office."

Katie jumped up from his desk. The heels she'd borrowed from Alicia led to a bit of wobble on the landing, but she recovered. "Bless you, Lee Jordan."

"Yeah, okay," he said, and there was no denying the smile now. "Just remember you said that when you're holding my hair back tomorrow night."

Even from afar, there was no mistaking the big blonde head currently stationed at the rear of the line. Though he no longer had his curls – Alicia's Witch Weekly profile claimed he had shorn them to make himself look more mature after graduation – the unbridled air of arrogance was enough to set him apart. As she approached, she could hear him wrapping up a story about his father and the late Minister Scrimgeour. It was almost enough to make her turn around.

"Cormac!" she called out. The name still felt funny in her mouth. She'd spent so long attempting not to speak to him that she wasn't sure just how to do it. "Er, McLaggen."

His three closest teammates turned around before he did. O'Flaherty, Page, and Rickett, if she had retained anything from both playing at Hogwarts and the dozens of glossy Quidditch magazines sitting around her flat.

"Alright, Bell?" said O'Flaherty. They'd played against each other for three seasons, and each year the box red of her hair had gotten brighter. Now it was like a halo of flame around her pale features.

At the sound of her name, Cormac finally turned, a shit-eating grin that was probably supposed to be charming plastered across his features. "Katie!" he cried, and pulled her into a tight hug.

Katie was stiff against the hard lines of his body. Never in their nine-and-a-half years of knowing each other had they ever been this close to each other, excepting the several times they collided during practice. She wasn't sure what to do with her hands, so she kept them pressed against her thighs.

"Don't embarrass yourself in front of my teammates," he hissed into her ear, then released her.

"Erm," was all she could manage.

O'Flaherty, bless her heart, cut into the awkward silence. "I heard you were living with Alicia Spinnet. How's that going?"

By 'heard', Katie could only assume she meant 'was told while Alicia was supposed to be interviewing her'. The statement did, however, provide her with the opening she needed. Voice unnaturally cheery, she said, "Great! We're actually going to a wedding tomorrow. For George Weasley and," she took a deep, sharp breath, "Angelina Johnson. If you remember them at all."

"The one with the braids, yeah?" said Rickett. The West Country accent colouring his words was thicker than she remembered. "She was right fit, weren't she?"

"Shut up," said O'Flaherty.

Confusion flitted across Cormac's face for the briefest of moments. "They're getting married?"

"Tomorrow," Katie repeated.

"Why was I not invited?" Cormac asked. He seemed to genuinely not know why George and Angelina wouldn't want him at either the ceremony or the reception. He was a wonderful time, the cast of his eyes seemed to say. Once again, Katie reconsidered the whole thing.

"Funnily enough," she said, and managed a false laugh, "that's why I'm here. Would you like to go? With me?"

Cormac considered it for a moment while O'Flaherty and Rickett bickered between themselves in heated whispers. "I have three questions, love," he eventually said. "One, will I have to dress up?"

Katie pursed her lips. It was taking all her willpower not to retract the invitation. "Most likely, since it is a wedding."

"Fair enough. Two, will there be an open bar?"

"The extended Weasley family does like to drink," she answered. "So I'm going to say yes."

"Three," he said, and took a step closer to her. "Will I be coming home with you after?"

"Only if I'm piss drunk."

That seemed to be enough for Cormac. He turned to face Page and said, "Let the coaches know I'll be missing practice tomorrow. I'm going to a wedding."

"Do it yourself, you berk."


	2. Chapter 2

Cormac was a pain even before they left for the Burrow. For the briefest of moments as he stood on her doorstep, Katie found herself admiring his looks. He had always been attractive, but the more intensive training of the British and Irish Quidditch League had turned the boyish charm of a confident teenager into sheer, rugged masculinity. Even while standing still, his muscles rippled under the thin fabric of his summer dress robes. His jaw was square, his eyes sparkling blue, and his tan even. His smile was also dropping off of his face.

"Is that what you're wearing?" he asked, looking her over from the pointy toes of her shoes to her uncharacteristically done hair.

She laughed, unsure if he was being serious or not. It was a good dress. It was very cute. She had borrowed it from Alicia's closet – and by borrowed, she meant she had grabbed it while Alicia was busy doing herself up for the wedding earlier in the day. As soon as the blonde left to help Angelina get ready, Katie squeezed herself into the black number. Were it not for the cutouts in the front and the hem just grazing her mid-thigh, it almost would have been appropriate for a funeral. This was not unintentional.

The irony appeared to be lost on Cormac.

Brow furrowed, he said, "You look a bit like a slag."

"And you look like a right tosspot," she answered, not entirely in control of what was coming out of her mouth, "but I'm still taking you, aren't I?"

"Fair," he said with a shrug. "But I don't want anyone looking at my date's baps."

Katie snorted. "That's just for you to do, then?"

A roguish grin spread across Cormac's face. "Yes. And I would be happy to start here and now if you're alright with being a bit late."

"Shut up."

"All I'm saying is, I expect some sort of reward in exchange for rearranging my schedule for an old school friend in need."

Katie shut her eyes tight, doing her best to block out the dashing boy before her. Going by herself would almost be worth it if it meant she didn't have to hear another word from Cormac McLaggen. Almost. As it was, she settled on saying, "We weren't ever friends, and we'll see how I'm feeling after a drink or seventeen."

Offense looked foreign on Cormac's face, but he feigned it anyway. "We were teammates seventh year. We practiced together. I saw your arse once in the locker room. Great arse, by the way. Half of the reason I said yes to this."

Against what every fiber in her body was screaming at her, she grabbed Cormac's hand. It was warm and rough to the touch, with long fingers and a wide, calloused palm. Before he could make a smart remark, they disappeared into the crushing realm between one place and another.

The smells of the Burrow washed over her. Freshly cut grass, earth, chimney smoke, and baking bread, no matter what the time of day. Cormac lost balance on arrival and pulled her to the ground. They tumbled, a mess of arms and legs and at least one wand poking into Katie's back, halfway down a knoll before hitting a pair of legs. The legs hardly moved.

Oliver Wood peered down at them. "Alright?" he asked.

A skinny man with a shock of red hair and pinstriped dress robes sidled up next to Oliver. Katie groaned and buried her face in Cormac's chest. Of all the Weasleys to witness the moment, of course it was Percy.

To his eternal credit, Percy managed not to make a snide comment about her choice of date, or her current position on the ground. All he said was, "The ceremony's starting soon. You two should consider finding a seat."

"Right-o," said Katie. With some difficulty, she untangled herself from Cormac and pulled herself to her feet. When she finally reoriented herself, her dress was hiked up almost to her hips. Oliver and Percy politely averted their gazes. Cormac stared directly at her arse. She tugged the dress back into place. "We'll just go do that."

In an act of outward affection that Katie had never expected, Cormac entwined his fingers with hers. It made sense when, a few seconds later, she saw Ron and Hermione making their way under the flower-laced archway leading to the backyard. Some things didn't change, it looked like. Still, it had been so long since Katie had had romantic physical contact with someone that she didn't pull away.

They made their way into the tent in the backyard. The scene before them was gorgeous. Nothing like Bill and Fleur's wedding, though, of course. With all of the twins' joking protests at the fanfare and decadence of the occasion, it was no wonder that George had decided to do something simpler. The bouquets decorating the tightly packed – though few – tables were made of dandelions, the yellow flowers and puffs of white matching the colour scheme no doubt chosen by Angelina for its tendency to flatter her skin. Fairy lights illuminated the tent as dusk fell over them.

"Katie!" Alicia shouted over the hustle and bustle of the gathering crowd. She half-ran the wrong way down the aisle, her tall heels impeding her progress. A brilliant smile left her even prettier than usual. Just in case she hadn't heard the first time, she repeated, "Katie!"

"Alicia!" Katie answered, with far less enthusiasm. Cormac had graduated from hand-holding to wrapping an arm around her waist. She wanted to squirm away, but allowed it for the moment. Roger Davies stared at them, great amusement clear on his face.

"We're sitting together! Not for the ceremony, obviously," she corrected herself, "but for the reception. We'll be upfront for the thing itself. But after! We're at table one with the rest of the wedding party." She flapped a hand at the table in question, and for the first time, Katie realized that everyone would be looking at her throughout the entirety of the wedding. Were it not for Cormac's strong arm around her, she might have fainted. "So us, Angelina – she's with Molly and her mum and dad now – and George, Lee and Meg, Oliver—"

Katie cut her off. "I know who's in the wedding party."

Slightly deflated, Alicia went on, "Cormac, you'll be sitting with Roger and Dean until the reception."

As though he had just gotten permission, Cormac left Katie's side and headed for the one-time Ravenclaw Quidditch captain. Roger's amusement immediately turned to barely-disguised dread.

"How do I look?" Katie asked Alicia in a low voice. As much as she didn't want anyone to know how self-conscious she had begun to feel, she also felt it necessary to be as attractive as possible throughout the night.

"Well my dress looks great," said Alicia, her eyes twinkling. "As do you, obviously. I'm surprised Cormac hasn't jumped you yet, with his level of self-control."

"Shut up," Katie began to say. The words died in her throat.

George, more handsome than ever in his soft blue robes, had appeared in the tent. Lee was by his side, but he might as well not have been there for all the attention Katie was paying him. Light seemed to radiate from the redhead before her. All of her secret dreams of his and her wedding day (never spoken to anyone, lest she be made fun of for her uncharacteristic romanticism) rushed back to her. She would have made him wear blue as well; it brought out his eyes. As he stationed himself at the head of the aisle, she stopped Stephen Cornfoot in his tracks and took his glass of champagne from him. Something about the look in her eyes must have startled him more than the theft, as he took it in stride and returned to Luna a few feet away. She drank it in one gulp.

"Are you going to be okay?" Alicia whispered. Her eyes were wide, eyebrows raised yet again. She had clutched onto Katie's hand. The gesture provided far more comfort than Cormac's attempt at a public display of affection had. "Do you need to leave?"

"I'll be fine," Katie said weakly. She couldn't look away from George, who appeared to be avoiding eye contact with her as he spoke animatedly with Bill. "I'll be—I'm a bridesmaid, after all. I can't… I'll be fine."

Doubt clear on her face, Alicia answered, "If you're sure."

Moving as if she was in a trance, Katie took her place as the second in line on the bride's side. She felt as though she was going to vomit.

The ceremony passed by in a blur. Maybe it was the three glasses of champagne Alicia had covertly poured her before the bride walked down the aisle, maybe it was the emotional pain of seeing her Hogwarts sweetheart marry her best friend, but Katie spent more time admiring the fairy lights than watching Angelina and George. When the groom kissed the bride, Alicia reached behind her and squeezed her hand again. Cormac, seated as he was amongst less important friends and family members, remained oblivious. His clapping may have been the loudest in the tent.

As soon as it was socially acceptable to do so, Katie grabbed another pitifully small flute of champagne off of table one and headed for the house. Rather than go inside to the hustle and bustle of Molly putting the final touches on dinner, she swerved left and waded into the rose bushes. With very little grace, she planted herself behind a particularly high shrub and finished the champagne in a swig and a half.

"Shit," she whispered to herself.

"Fuck!" came an answer from a few feet to her right. A tall, heavily-muscled form lurched out from behind a tree and stumbled to a halt in front of her. Recognition flashed across his freckled face. "Katie Bell," he said, clutching his chest and panting with leftover adrenaline. "You scared the piss out of me."

"Charlie?"

"So you haven't forgotten me," he said with a crooked smile.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, whispering for no reason at all. There wasn't a soul within earshot. Still, something about the situation felt as though it called for secrecy.

"Well." He rubbed the back of his sunburnt neck and flashed another smile. "My brother's getting married."

"Ha," Katie said. Even after witnessing the act in question, the word still stung a little. "What are you doing here, specifically? In the garden."

He alighted beside her behind the shrub. This close, she could smell his cologne: musky and earthy, mixed with a not-unpleasant smell of sweat. "I didn't bring anyone," he said.

Mentally, Katie punched herself in the face. It had never occurred to her to go with another Weasley to the wedding. She wasn't sure if it would have softened the blow or made George even angrier, but it certainly would have been more pleasant than bringing Cormac. Although, to be fair to herself, she hadn't spoken to Charlie since she was a teenager. And he was certainly not bad looking.

Unaware of her mental monologue, Charlie went on, "I'm not a huge fan of sitting by myself at family gatherings. I don't mind being by myself, it's just… the odd one out always gets looked at. I don't love being looked at. The real question is: what are you doing here? In the garden, specifically."

"The long-term ex-girlfriend always gets looked at." Katie sighed and turned her head up to look at the sky. The stars, brilliant and sparkling and entirely appropriate for a happy wedding, seemed to mock her predicament. "Especially when she's a bridesmaid."

"Oh," said Charlie. "Yeah."

They sat in silence. Charlie took a large sip of his drink, what looked like a rum and cola. Katie attempted to lean her head against the shrub, then, when that failed, rested her chin on her chest. The sounds of laughter and conversation drifted over the garden from the packed tent.

Finally, Katie said, "You could have brought someone. You don't have to be ashamed. Your family is progressive about that sort of thing, as far as I can tell."

From the corner of her eye, she could see him squinting at her. "What sort of thing?"

"You know," she said, "the whole men thing."

"The men thing?"

Katie cocked her head and looked him in the eye. They were the same colour as George's. "You fancying men?"

In a reaction that Katie never would have expected, Charlie began to laugh.

"What?" she asked.

He held up one finger, laughing too hard to get words out.

"What?" she asked again, more urgently this time.

Eventually, he managed to squeeze out, "I don't."

A hot flush crept into Katie's cheeks. "I… I didn't—I never would have," she stammered. "I just always thought that that was why you never, you know, brought girls round to meet your parents."

"I like women," he said, his laughter dying down into a large grin. It was lopsided, like his brother's. "I just don't have time for one. Dragons are a bit demanding, as you would imagine. And Romanian women are a lot to handle. Very hairy, as well."

"I'm so sorry. I'm an idiot," Katie said, looking at the stars again. She was afraid that if she met Charlie's gaze, her blush would get even worse.

"You're not the first one to think it," Charlie said with a shrug. "You are one of the first ones to say it out loud, though. Which I appreciate. Nothing worse than people gossiping about you and not having the courtesy to include you in it."

"Sorry," she said again. His smile was infectious, and she found herself smirking against her own will.

"Don't worry about it," he said, and nudged her shoulder with his. "To make it up to me, however, I propose that we get drunk enough not to care about the people looking at us. Especially not Great Aunt Muriel."

"Agreed."


	3. Chapter 3

Katie woke up with a dry mouth and a headache pounding just behind her left eye. Soft light pressed at her eyelids. It was either too early for the sun to have risen, or she'd fallen asleep somewhere with drawn curtains. Not her room, then. In an effort to wake up early enough to go to work every morning, she left her windows bare. It wasn't as though the Mahotras would be spying around the corner.

With great effort, she opened her eyes. The corner of the room she could see without moving her stiff neck was foreign but familiar, as if she'd caught only glimpses of it before. Gently moving paintings of landscapes adorned the green walls, the swaying of their branches setting her stomach rumbling. Books and the odd piece of nature lined wraparound shelves. A heavy door stood with its bolt done. The bare wooden floor was clean of clutter except for one notable exception: her dress.

The night came rushing back to her.

Glass after glass of champagne, watching Cormac leave with Fay Dunbar, alternatively laughing and crying in the garden while Charlie attempted to comfort her. _Charlie_. Charlie, who she'd known since she was a gangly little first year and he was the exulted Captain of Gryffindor Quidditch. Charlie, who she'd only ever exchanged polite words with at Weasley family gatherings. Charlie, George's brother.

She tried to move – maybe to sneak out from the Burrow before anyone realised that she hadn't left the night before – but found herself pinned in place by an arm roughly the same size around as her leg.

"Shite," she whispered.

The arm held her tighter. A deep voice, raspy from a night of drinking, mumbled into her hair, "What's wrong?" Before she could even begin to formulate an answer, Charlie stiffened against her. Far more alert now, he said, "Oh, fuck."

Katie squeezed her eyes shut. Maybe if she pretended none of it was happening, she could go back to the night before and leave with her date like a normal attendee. Avoid the whole shagging her ex-boyfriend's brother thing completely. Actually, she thought wildly, there was no guarantee that they had shagged at all. Maybe they had just grown hot just before innocently falling asleep, and that was why neither of them was wearing a stitch of clothing. The hypothetical situation offered no explanation for why she had a memory of Charlie's head between her legs, but it brought her some comfort.

He sat up and, to her surprise, began to laugh. Real laughter, not the bitter kind you would expect from someone regretting their actions. Tears glistened at the crinkled corners of his eyes.

Katie sat up as well, drawing the blanket up with her to preserve whatever modesty she had left. It felt as though it had been knitted by Molly. The slightly crooked "C" in the center confirmed her suspicion. "What?"

Charlie wiped at his eyes and let out a great sigh. The chuckles faded away, but his smile didn't. "First girl I've slept with in three years, and it's Katie Bell. Merlin."

The offense she was beginning to feel distracted from the shame. She clutched onto it. "And what's so funny about that?"

"Oh, nothing," he said airily. "Just that the only reason we know each other is because my brother brought you round. Friends at first, back when you were wee things." His smile faltered. "Come to think of it, you're still a wee thing."

"I've turned twenty-one," Katie huffed.

"And I'll be twenty-eight come December." He leaned his head back against the wall and shut his eyes. "Jesus, Charlie, what've you done?"

"We'll just never speak of it again." Katie said simply. "Pretend the whole thing never happened, and that you were just making sure no one took advantage of me in my drunken state. George and… everyone was more like than not too busy to even notice that we were talking."

Charlie cracked one sparkling blue, bloodshot eye open. "Why do that?"

"Why wouldn't we?"

"I dunno," he said with a shrug. "Are you that ashamed of me?"

"I'm not ashamed of you," she snapped. She wasn't sure how strongly she stood by the statement. If Charlie had been anyone else, she would have been running up and down the streets telling anyone who would listen what had happened. Katie's dry streak broken, and by a handsome dragonologist nonetheless. One who was exactly her type. The thing was, there was a reason he was her type, and its name was George Weasley. Sleeping with exes' relatives was bad enough. Sleeping with exes' relatives on the night of their wedding? A one-way trip to pariahdom. "I'm ashamed of myself."

He shrugged again, one massive, freckled shoulder nudging her on its way. "While I do understand that," he began, "you've already done it. You'll have to live with it one way or the other. Why keep it a secret?"

"Because George will never speak to me again?" Katie said, her voice reaching an octave higher than normal. The question was preposterous. "And my parents will find out and disown me for dishonoring them, and my sister – who _loved_ George, let me tell you – will ignore me at Christmases, and… oh, my God. I sound like Alicia."

"From what I saw of her last night, a bit, yeah."

"You get the point, though," Katie said, and rested the back of her head against the wall as well. "It'll be a mess."

"Someone's bound to find out," he said, with far too much ease in his voice. "You might as well let me take you to breakfast."

"Breakfast?"

"Yeah."

Katie considered it for a long moment. From what she could recall, they had been snogging in the garden at one point towards the very end of the evening. Chances were at least one person had seen. Likely Alicia, checking up on her to make sure she hadn't passed out amongst the weeds. Their secret wasn't safe for very long, if it even still was. And she was hungry.

"Yeah, alright. Do I look presentable?"

Charlie smiled again. "You're stark naked with lipstick smudged halfway across your face. I think you look brilliant."

She pulled the blanket over her head. Muffled by the knit, she said, "I'm apparating home to shower first. Give me twenty minutes, tops. Where should I meet you?"

Gently, he peeled the blanket away and revealed what was surely a nest of hair. "You don't have to leave yet."

"What do you m—mmpfh."

Charlie's lips were on hers, warm and soft and still tasting slightly of champagne. An electric charge jolted throughout her body. One big, rough hand strayed up her leg, setting goose pimples up in its path. Just before the junction of her thighs, it stopped. "May I?" he asked, his hot breath tickling against her mouth. In lieu of an answer, she kissed him again.

The efforts of his fingers brought back more memories of the night before. It's a wonder she hadn't woken the whole Burrow up moaning. Maybe he had soundproofed the room when he was younger, she thought idly before her mind went completely blank. Charlie was, once again, between her legs.

"You seemed to like this last night," he said with a cheeky grin before pressing a kiss to her hip. "But if you'd like to go home instead, I'll understand."

Katie wound her fingers through his hair. "I'll pass on leaving for just now."

She'd forgotten what it was like to be breathless in bed, but Charlie was doing his best to remind her. Gasps and half-formed words were all she was able to produce as he kissed and licked and sucked and, eventually, slowly slipped a finger inside.

Before she lost all control of her faculties, she managed to get out, "Hey."

Charlie looked up from his work, looking genuinely concerned. "Everything okay?"

"I would like," she panted, "but only if you'd like—we don't have to… I'd like, you know…"

"You're allowed to tell me what you want," he said with the smallest of smirks.

Katie was not a girl that shied away from profanity, but she felt absolutely filthy when she finally succeeded in saying, "Fuck me?"

He did.

Forty minutes later, the pair of them were seated outside a Muggle café not far from Katie and Alicia's flat. Katie could hardly bring herself to make eye contact, and stared instead at her omelet. She was wearing one of Charlie's t-shirts and a pair of jeans (likely Ginny's) stolen from the laundry room at the Burrow. She had managed to clean the leftover makeup from her face, but she was sure that the waitress still knew exactly what had gone on the night before. And that morning. Twice.

Charlie prodded at her foot with the toe of his boot. "What's wrong?" he asked her for the second time since waking up, this time around a mouthful of sausage.

"I'm coming to terms with what's happened," she said slowly. "And I'm panicking a bit."

"Why?" he asked.

"You get to go home to Romania in a few days. Or today, really, if you wanted to. I have to stay here and deal with everyone knowing that you and I slept together. Molly may genuinely kill me when she finds out." _I wouldn't be the first_ , she added silently.

"You're so convinced that someone knows," he said. "Have you considered that you may be overreacting?"

For a moment, she was comforted. She made it through the rest of breakfast without having another miniature panic attack. She even kissed Charlie goodbye, certain that that was the thing to do after the course of their past twenty-four hours. And then she went home.

"KATHERINE ANNE BELL."

Alicia, who had been perched on the couch facing the door like a disappointed mother waiting for her child to come home, leapt to her feet. Katie's mind raced wildly thinking of something to say that would distract her from whatever it was she was about to yell. Finally, she settled upon, "Is Oliver still here?"

It worked. Alicia stopped in her tracks, mouth still slightly open. "No, he's left."

"I thought he was seeing Penelope Clearwater."

"He's said that they're—that's not the point, Katie!" she thundered. It was a bit startling then when her next words came out in a harsh whisper. "What have you done?"

Katie pulled her dress from her bag and tossed it to Alicia, who didn't catch it. "That's yours."

"What happened last night?" her roommate hissed, and a wave of relief washed over her. She didn't know. If Alicia didn't know something, no one did. "Katie, what in Merlin's name happened last night?"

"Nothing," said Katie, feigning nonchalance. "I was too drunk to apparate and we don't have a fireplace so I stayed at the Burrow."

"Don't treat me like I'm stupid, Katherine," Alicia warned.

"I'm not treating you like you're—"

"Everyone saw you with Charlie!" she exploded. "You were together all night! Even Cormac realised that something was up, and he's thick as a brick wall. And then no one could find you at the end of the night, and he was gone, too, and I don't know what to tell you. There was talk!"

Only Alicia could make 'there was talk' sound as damning as she had. Much of the talk was likely from her, but Katie doubted that pointing that out would improve the situation. Instead, she asked, "What was there talk of?"

Alicia lowered her voice further, as if she was afraid to let even Katie hear. "That you and Charlie… you know…"

"Shagged?" Katie offered.

"Don't say it so loudly!" Alicia nearly shrieked. She was quickly approaching hysterical. "But did you?"

Katie was silent. Alicia took it as answer enough.

"Oh my god," she said. "Oh, my god. You did."

"I didn't mean to!" Katie said, suddenly feeling much more defensive than she thought she would. "I just… we just got very drunk and it all kind of happened. And then again this morning."

Alicia seemed to short-circuit. In a sort of crumpling movement, she sat cross-legged on the floor. "I don't believe it," she said. "I do not believe it. I don't believe it."

"Are you all right?" Katie asked tentatively.

"We can never speak of this again." She seemed to reconsider, as the next words out of her mouth were: "Tell me everything."


	4. Chapter 4

Merlin only knew how long it had been since Katie had looked at a map. Unlike some of the residents of her flat, she had a sense of direction and didn't get occasionally lost on her way to the grocery. Take her somewhere once, and she could get you back blindfolded. Unfortunately, however, her area of expertise did not extend beyond the Isles. Her journeys over the years formed a sort of triangle between the greater London area, an unidentifiable stretch of Scotland, and various bits of Devon. Extra-British travel required help. So, she stepped foot for the first time into the Lorcan McLaird International Magical Library and checked out a tightly-rolled scroll which promised to provide travel estimations for the majority of Europe. After some trial and error with using her wand as a scale, she worked out just how far it was to the Băneasa Forest.

2500km stared her in the face. Almost twenty hours of flying on a high-end broom, and that was if you were willing to deal with the wind burn that came with going at top speeds for an extended period of time. Not to mention the lack of sleep and meals if you went straight through. All the complaints she'd made about having to go to, in her own words, "bumfuck nowhere Ottery St. Catchpole" suddenly seemed laughable.

"I'm never speaking to him again," she announced.

"Never seems dramatic," said Oliver, clasping his hands tightly in his lap as he ever-so-slightly leaned into his arm of the floral loveseat. Alicia had been attempting to cuddle for the past twenty minutes or so, but his interest seemed low. It was a wonder he'd even come, considering he had apparently left that morning in the most stiff, awkward way imaginable.

If Katie hadn't wanted him there to begin with, she very much did not want him there now. However, Alicia had insisted. Her reasoning went that, not only was he closer with Charlie than anyone else they knew (without the surname Weasley), but also that they were accustomed to taking direction from him. It seemed to have slipped her mind that Katie had never even been good at taking direction on the pitch; multiple screaming matches had ensued from Oliver telling her that there was something wrong with her form. But, nevertheless, she insisted, and who was Katie to turn down help?

"You could write letters," said Alicia with what Katie was sure she thought was a reassuring smile. "The Mahotras have an owl. I'm sure they would let us borrow him if you asked nicely."

"What would our letters be about, Al? 'Things are going great here in England, just been thinking again about the time you ate me out for half an hour. Write back soon! Suppose I'll hear from you in three days.'"

Oliver made a disgusted noise. "Please don't."

A smile threatened to spread across Katie's face. Oliver uncomfortable was a rare treat. The man would walk around the locker room with his tackle out, but couldn't handle the thought of one of his Chasers being sexually active. The small bit of gagging he'd just done was something to be cherished. Still, she stifled the expression. "What I mean is: it's not like he and I are attempting to be an item. We shagged a couple times, and now he's going back home, if he hasn't already. What is there to do about it, other than move on with our lives?"

"Start a torrid long-distance relationship that ends in at least one beautiful ginger baby and you living in the wilds of Romania," Alicia said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Your job isn't exactly keeping you here."

"I happen to love listening to the complaints of government employees day in and out."

"Katie," said Oliver. "He's a nice bloke. He seems to like you, far as I can tell. You could do worse. You have done worse."

"McLaggen," coughed Alicia.

"Listen," said Katie hotly, "I didn't _do_ McLaggen, can we please clarify that? I used him to make George angry, because I was upset. And d'you know what will make George even angrier? His ex-girlfriend trying to date his brother after sleeping with him at his wedding. I have a feeling that won't go over too well."

"He won't be…" Alicia started. She folded her hands in her lap and pursed her lips, then restarted. "He's pretty upset already, I won't lie. And that would probably make it worse. But that doesn't mean it's a _bad_ idea."

"Have you spoken with him?" Katie demanded. The morning after the wedding, George and Angelina had left for their honeymoon in Ibiza, and, allegedly, no one had heard from them since. This wasn't unexpected - newlyweds of two days weren't exactly renowned for their contact with the outside world. But if anyone would be able to break through the veil of silence, it was Alicia. "What did he say?"

"I didn't speak to George," said Alicia. Katie deflated. "But I did have a quick chat with Angelina this morning. Things in Spain are going well, in case anyone was wondering."

"I was not," quipped Oliver. "So continue."

After looking Oliver over with eyes practically dripping with disdain, Alicia continued. "He's heard the rumours, and he isn't thrilled with them, but for now he's choosing to focus on his marriage over gossip."

"What a load of bullshite," said Oliver. Katie was becoming more and more glad that they had brought him in for this discussion. "When have either of you known George to let something go? He's probably sitting on the beach under an umbrella so his freckles don't multiply, seething over the fact that his older brother and his school sweetheart… well, you know."

"D'you think," said Katie, very slowly, "that he would be more or less upset if I'd shagged Ron?"

Alicia responded immediately, "I don't know about George, but I would kick you out of this flat. That isn't funny."

"It's a little funny," said Oliver.

"I approve of Charlie, never mention Ron again or Hermione Granger and I will team up and hex some sense into you," said Alicia.

"Damn," said Katie, "there go all my dreams."

No plan was established for the remainder of the time Oliver spent in their flat. The discussion, as most of theirs tended to do, quickly devolved into idle gossip about the witches and wizards they had played against in school. Alicia's big contribution was that Maxine O'Flaherty and Anthony Rickett, Beating team extraordinaire since their time under Cedric Diggory, had just been publicly outed as a couple. Oliver brought news of a possible BIQL sanction on Marcus Flint, who had been discovered to be talking potentially performance-enhancing experimental potions. Katie, for her part, was just excited to be discussing a subject other than Charlie and herself.

When she arrived at her desk Monday morning, Gladys was waiting with high colour in her pasty cheeks. "Two things," she said. "One, there's a sexual harassment case pending in the Department of Intoxicating Substances that you need to review before the preliminary meeting today. Two, there's a postcard in your in-box."

She sounded oddly triumphant about the second point. Katie could feel her brow furrowing as she said, "I assume you've read it."

"Oh, absolutely. It's from Spain, written by a friend of yours – the one who's been in here a few times, I think, if I've got my names and faces right."

Katie interrupted with, "Since when have you taken so much interest in my life?"

"Since it became interesting, obviously." Gladys swiveled idly in her chair, completely unconcerned with how red Katie was turning. "He says he's not coming home early, but also that he doesn't want you coming round his or his parents' homes when he does return. So that's unfortunate. What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything!" Katie yelled. Several of her fellow HBR employees turned to look at her. One, a Welsh vampire likely hired for diversity purposes, even stood up to better see over the half-wall of his cubicle. Lowering her voice to a whisper, she repeated, "I didn't do anything."

Gladys smirked and raised one eyebrow. "He doesn't seem to think so."

"Have you put it back into my in-box, at least?" Katie asked, sliding into her ergonomic chair with something like shame. The comfort it usually brought was lost on her. The interactions between her and Gladys were usually limited to updates on complaints and notifications that they were going to lunch or the toilets. She wasn't loving this new familiarity.

"Of course."

There was, in fact, a very colorful something sitting on top of the forms and interdepartmental communications she'd amassed over the weekend. She picked it up and her heart sank. It was a photo of George and Angelina holding hands on a sunny beach. George was wearing oversized women's sunglasses, a straw hat, and a loud camp shirt. Angelina looked happy and gorgeous and practically glowing in her bright yellow two-piece. _Love from Ibiza_ was scrawled diagonally across the bottom right corner. It took a great amount of effort for her to flip it over.

Her full name and department address were printed carefully in George's familiar, tiny block handwriting on the right-hand side. The left was not so neat. She read it as quickly as possible, as though skimming would lessen the impact.

 _Katherine,  
_ _Thank you for attending Ang and I's big day. Glad to hear you had a great time.  
_ _We'll be here through the week, just like planned. I'll be having loads of fun.  
_ _Mum's planning a coming home party. You're not invited.  
_ _Now I'm thinking, you're not invited round our flat or the Burrow ever again.  
_ _Unless_ _ **SOMEONE**_ _plans to bring you.  
_ _Alicia's welcome.  
_ _I've run out of space,  
_ _George_

There were several ink blots in the white space, as if he'd thought so hard about what he was writing that the quill had time to drip. She was almost impressed that he'd managed to keep cordial for as long as he had. Other than leaving the customary 'dear' out, which she felt was a low blow.

Gingerly, she put the postcard in the top drawer of her desk. She was already too attached to it to throw it away, but leaving it in her sight was out of the question. Also, she didn't want Gladys to get her claws on it again.

The morning passed by in a blur. Not even the sexual harassment complaint – which turned out to be stemming from an office party in which a group of senior female employees encouraged their intern to go shirtless – was enough to hold her attention. All she could think about was the postcard in her drawer. All other implications aside, not being allowed at the Burrow meant Molly would no longer be making her pack lunches.

A lilac paper aeroplane landed neatly in front of her at fifteen to twelve. After carefully angling it to make sure that Gladys couldn't crane her neck and read it, she unfolded its neat creases. Lee was inviting her to break at the Ministry café.

His hairband was bright pink that day, to match the stripes on his shirt. Although he greeted her with his customary dashing smile, he soon grew serious. "George is right mad."

Katie stopped in her tracks, nearly bashing into an Unspeakable as she did. "Why has everyone spoken to him except for me?"

Lee placed a hand gently on the small of her back and pushed until she started moving again. "Because he's torn between leaving his honeymoon early then crashing the Ministry to have a row with you and disowning his own brother."

"Neither of those is good."

"I told you," he said with a shrug, "right mad. He thought the worst he had to deal with was you bringing Gumby McSlapper to his wedding, but now–"

"Gumby McSlapper?" she asked with her first laugh of the day.

"Not my best effort, I'll admit that. His name is so stupid already that it's hard to make fun of. What I was saying was: now Georgie has to process you shagging his brother and it's all a bit much."

As they picked their way through the Atrium, packed with witches and wizards taking their lunch, Katie cringed. "Did he tell you that?"

"No, he didn't have to. Alicia owled me asking for advice, and just after I got him to talk through Floo. Nearly got himself kicked out of the hotel yelling. Knew he'd be angry. Didn't realize how. You've got to know that he's still got feelings for you, mate."

They were seated and with food by the time Katie got her thoughts together to answer. The chicken salad sandwich before her looked incredibly unappetizing, but she couldn't bring herself to glance up at Lee. She just knew he would have his concerned face on. Choosing each word with care, she asked, "If he still has feelings for me, why is he married to his brother's girlfriend?"

Lee shifted uncomfortably in his seat. After a long pause, he managed, "So how's Charlie in bed?"

* * *

 **It took this long to feel creative again, but more chapters are in the works. Many thanks to Childoftheharvest for getting me going again.**


	5. Chapter 5

There wasn't much that had happened in Katie's life that Lee didn't know, whether she'd told him or the twins and Alicia had opened their huge mouths. He knew her middle name, and the middle name of her older sister. He knew that she was afraid of swimming after she'd nearly drowned in a Muggle friend's aboveground pool. He knew about she and George deciding to be a couple seven minutes after it happened, and their breakup just as quickly. He'd even found out the day of that she'd gotten her first period and made fun of her mercilessly for it. But she'd be damned if he needed to know anything about her sex life that he didn't already. So, when a second purple aeroplane landed on her desk an hour or so after she'd returned from lunch, she was prepared to give a very pointed response.

Before she'd read so much as a word, she knew it wasn't from Lee. His handwriting looked like there was permanently an earthquake happening beneath him, and he refused to use a typewriter unless it was on official business. The memo was dictated and capped off with a stamped MoM seal.

 _Miss Katherine Bell  
_ _Level Five  
_ _Human & Being Resources  
_ _Desk B-Two_

 _You have a visitor waiting in security. Please come verify their identity at your earliest convenience._

Katie was growing rather tired of being referred to as Katherine. The annoyance was almost enough to distract her from the fact that someone had come to see her. There was no one she could think of that she particularly wanted to speak to about the going-ons of the past few days. Maybe Alicia had told Elisabeth, who would immediately have told their mother, who was the sort to drop by her work. She didn't think it could be Molly, because she would have just had Arthur retrieve her before coming to shout in front of all of the HBR staff, but there was still a chance. Extended by increasingly more dreadful guesses, the three-level elevator ride had never felt longer.

As she trekked across the Atrium for the third time that day, she prepared an apology for whoever it may have been waiting for her at security. Alicia, Lee, and Oliver she could be honest with, but everyone else required at least a show of regret. It would be a challenge: expressing feelings other than anger was somewhat difficult for her. But she would do her very best. She was in sight of the security booths. Her heart was beating hard.

"Katie!" came a deep voice.

The red-faced security guard was quick to cut in. "You don't have to yell at her, she'll be coming one way or the other."

Charlie looked mildly offended. "Excuse me for greeting my… friend."

The pause was almost imperceptible, but it caused Katie's heart to leap from her chest to her throat. Maybe if she'd taken the opportunity and slept around more in her youth, she wouldn't be getting butterflies at the sight of him. But she'd only had eyes for one boy at Hogwarts, and very little practice since. Damn her easy attachment, she thought as Charlie gave a big, goofy wave.

Unlike Charlie, who looked chuffed to be there, the security guard had a frown etched deeply into his face. "Would you like to confirm that you know this person?"

"Charlie– Charles Weasley," she sputtered. "I don't know his middle name or I would tell you that, too."

"Septimus," said Charlie. "After my dad's dad."

It was a testament to the wizarding world's love of silly names that the guard didn't so much as bat an eye at the information, just handed Charlie a badge with his visitor number on it. "He's your responsibility now, Miss Bell. Don't let him run amok."

It was clear from the tilt of Charlie's mouth that he wanted to make a joke, but he contained himself. Instead, he stepped around the security cordon and enveloped Katie in a hug. He was warm and muscular and smelled wonderful, and any normal girl would have been thrilled at the embrace. Katie froze. "Hello," she mumbled into his chest.

He released her and took a step back. As per usual for the eldest two Weasley boys, he was wearing dragon-hide boots, though his were far more sturdy and sensible than Bill's fashion models. It took a great effort for her to look up from his shoes and investigate the rest of his outfit. Dressed as casually as he was – in worn-in denim, a grey vest, and a forest green flannel – he was still devastatingly handsome, if in a rugged, roughed-up sort of way. Staring at him felt like she was a first year again, watching the exalted Gryffindor Quidditch Captain stroll down the hallway and laugh with his friends, all a thousand times more interesting and self-assured than she thought she'd ever be.

"It's my last day in England," he said. "I thought I'd come see you, since I've temporarily ruined both our lives."

A pit formed in the bottom of Katie's stomach. "Oh, no. People have been talking to you about it, too?"

"Oh, yeah. George sent me a postcard this morning calling me worse than Percy ever was. Which is just unnecessarily rude," he said with a sheepish laugh. "He and Angelina looked lovely in the picture."

Katie couldn't come up with a response she felt was appropriate, so instead she asked, "You do realise that I have to go back to work?"

"I assumed," he said, eyes fixed on the vaulted ceiling. "I thought maybe I could watch you work. I've never done a desk job before, and I figured it could be interesting. Plus, I get to spend time with you. Is that odd? Let me know if it's odd."

"It's a little odd," she answered before she could talk herself into being polite. The last thing she needed was Gladys getting further insight into her personal life. She was sure the blue-haired muppet would just about lose her mind if the _someone_ from the postcard showed up in the flesh. That, and she couldn't think of anything less attractive for her to be doing than filling out forms. Charlie's face fell, and she added, "I'm done in a few hours, though. I'd be happy to do something after."

"Ah," he said. "I'll just, er. I'll see what my dad's up to, then. I'm sure he'll be happy to see me. Not that you're not! Er, well, I don't know that you are." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm going to stop talking now."

The obvious discomfort threw Katie off. She was supposed to be the nervous one. He was older, and accomplished, and unlikely to face consequences for their actions other than childish brotherly insults. She felt a strange urge to reassure him. Hesitantly at first, she said, "I could skive off. As far as I know, there's only new hire paperwork to be done. Nothing that can't be pushed off onto someone else."

"Are you sure?" he asked, smile creeping back. "I don't want to get you into any more trouble than I already have."

"The beings will have to go without me for an afternoon."

"Brilliant." He seized her hand and pulled her close. With no more resistance than a rag doll, she came along. "Are we allowed to apparate again, or is it still the toilets?"

Katie shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. Leaving work early was seeming like a worse decision with each passing second, especially if she didn't go back to notify them. Her boss would pitch a fit when she returned. "You are, but they don't recom–"

The rest of the word was crushed back into her by the vice grip of apparition. When use of her lungs was returned to her, she took a huge gasp of air, then coughed it all out. "Jesus! Warn someone next time."

Diagon Alley spread out before them, full of unsupervised children and wizards off work. Vendors shouted over bobbing hats and fought to distinguish their stall full of wares from the rest. A myriad of coloured mists twisted through the air from the cauldrons out front of Slug & Jiggers. Cats and the rare dog wandered about underfoot. Charlie was still holding her hand.

"Would you believe I've never been here with a girl before?" he asked, taking off into crowd. "In all my years in England."

"Charlie," she said as she bobbed along in his wake. "Until Saturday night I thought you were gay. Yes, I believe it."

His laughter was so loud that it disturbed a mother trying to wrangle her two tow-headed toddlers. "Noted. You know, it's been years since I've had a Fortescue's sundae. I hear Adrian's in charge now. I wonder if they'll still get the knickerbocker glory right: not too much jelly between the ice cream, bit of meringue on top…"

Katie let him prattle on uninterrupted. The display was oddly charming and slightly reminiscent, she tried not to think, of both Arthur and Percy. Extreme interest in mundane topics was a trait passed to more than one of his sons, it seemed. It was cute watching him get excited. Red patches had appeared high on his freckled cheeks and his smile was wide and bright. Never in her life had she seen him talk this much; he was always the listener in social gatherings at the Burrow. She could only imagine what it would look like if she brought up dragons.

Fortescue's was as inviting as ever. The candy-stripe umbrellas were unfurled, casting deep shadows over the patrons sitting on garden furniture and enjoying heaping scoops of every flavour one could desire. The last time Katie had been there, it was after a long Sunday morning of drinking, and Alicia had been politely asked to take her ice cream and go. Katie and Angelina, sure in their belief that she would be able to make it home alright, had left her to her own devices while they finished their desserts. It took them the rest of the afternoon to find her. When they eventually did, she was sitting on the floor of the Magical Menagerie, crying over the shop's fuzzier occupants and causing the teenage clerk much distress. Katie laughed at the memory.

Looking a bit like he'd forgotten she was there with him, Charlie stopped his stream of consciousness to ask, "What's funny?"

"Just thinking about friends," she said. She told herself that the tinge of sadness in her voice could be attributed to anything but missing Angelina. She'd seen her a few days ago, after all, and had been receiving constant updates from Alicia ever since.

Charlie led her to a table flanked by two wrought iron chairs and pulled one out for her to sit. "I'll go in and get it. What would you like?"

She sat. After thinking long and hard, she said, "Blueberry and peach, please. No chopped nuts."

"Any confetti?"

Katie levelled him with a stare. "On blueberry and peach?"

"Point taken," he said with another easy chuckle. She watched his broad back as he walked into the shop's cozy, brightly-lit interior and couldn't help but smile. It had been a long time since someone had laughed with her with such regularity. Since even before she and George broke up, if she was being honest with herself. Their last months together had been difficult, to say the least, and by no small fault of her own. The more she thought about it, the colder the summer breeze felt on her skin.

Thankfully, Charlie returned with the ice cream rather fast. Two overflowing bowls filled with the same mounds of blue and orange – no chopped nuts and no confetti – balanced precariously in his hands. It was a wonder that they made it to the table intact. With a grin, he said, "I stole your flavour choice. You're a woman of good taste."

They ate for a long while in comfortable silence, broken only by Charlie occasionally pointing out a character on the street he wanted Katie to look at. While the dragon tamers of Romania may have been an interesting bunch, he'd grown used to them, he explained. It had been so long since he'd been in a diverse crowd that he was making the best of this one.

Katie was nearing the bottom of her bowl, and she couldn't hold her most pressing question in any longer. "Are you really leaving tomorrow?"

"Tonight," he answered around a mouthful of fruity ice cream. He swallowed and went on, "I have to be there for morning feeding tomorrow or they'll start docking my pay for 'extended vacation'. My portkey's at half-eight. It's the latest I could get arranged."

"D'you think you're coming back any time soon?" she asked, doing her best to sound casual.

He set his spoon down next to his empty bowl. Metal hitting metal made a tiny 'clink' that cut through the sudden tension between them. The expression on his face was inscrutable. "I thought that maybe – if you're not opposed, of course – the next time I see you could be in Romania."

"Romania?" Katie repeated dumbly.

"It's a beautiful country!" The tips of his ears were turning pink. "But I do understand if you don't want to."

"No," said Katie. Disappointment washed across his features. "No! Not... I meant that I didn't not want to. I want to. I would like to come visit. If you'll have me. If there's room for me. I don't know how you're living over there."

The disappointment was replaced by waves of excitement and mild awkwardness. "I live in a sort of yurt-like thing? We could get a room somewhere if you'd prefer that."

She wasn't entirely sure why she was agreeing to go on a trip to visit her married ex-boyfriend's brother. Maybe it was all of the encouragement from Oliver and Alicia, saying that he was a 'nice guy' and that he 'liked her'. Maybe it was Lee's question reminding her of just how nice sleeping with him had been. Or maybe it was the well of stubbornness and spite that inspired many of her actions. Whatever it was, she'd done it now. "We'll figure it out."


	6. Chapter 6

The week passed smoothly, and with few mentions of Charlie. Katie had chosen not to tell Alicia that she'd agreed to go to Romania in an attempt to save herself from endless questions and incessant advice. It worked. The only talking-to she received was from her boss, asking why she'd thought it was alright to leave work in the middle of the day. Her excuse wasn't her best, but it was passable: her father had been admitted to Mungo's with the mumblemumps, which she was able to describe vividly due to an infection in her third year. After a few half-hearted dressings down, she was sent back to her desk and allowed to work out the week in peace. For the first time in a long time, she was almost feeling good when she left the Ministry Friday evening. It didn't last.

Neal Mahotra was loitering in the stairwell when she reached their building, positioned so that she had to interact with him to make it past. She suppressed a sigh and said, "Hello, Neal."

"Katie!" he answered, flashing her a brilliant smile. "I have a question for you."

"Go for it."

"Do you think," he said, "that Alicia will go out with me now that she and her boyfriend are broken up?"

She squinted at him. The words themselves made sense, but together they were harder to parse. Alicia's only relationship, while long-standing and loyal, was an imaginary one. The assumption could be made that Neal was talking about Oliver, but that gave rise to the question of why he thought they were separated. The only time she could remember them genuinely fighting was when they'd all gone out to dinner and Oliver had tried to make Alicia box her food up and take it home. "What are you talking about?"

"She had a screaming match with some bloke this afternoon, and it sounds like she's been crying quite a bit since." He paused for a moment, then added, "Not that I've been listening."

This time, Katie couldn't stop the sigh from erupting. "Of course. What time did this all happen?"

Neal looked at his watch as though it would facilitate remembering. "Around half past three or so."

Alicia would have been working herself up for nearly two hours, then. It was all Katie could do not to turn on her heel and head somewhere else for the night. She knew, though, that ignoring the issue would only make it worse. If Alicia wasn't allowed to express her feelings, they tended to build up until she exploded and did something irreparable to one or more of her relationships. Katie squared her shoulders and pushed past Neal. Sarcasm subdued to the point where she wasn't sure if he would even notice, she said, "I'll keep you updated on the potential date."

The door to their flat was unlocked. No noise came from inside. So, Alicia had either cried herself out or she'd gone off somewhere to spread her misery. Neither possibility was ideal.

"Merlin give me strength," she mumbled. Giving the door a tentative push, she called out, "Alicia?"

Her flatmate wasn't hard to find. Alicia was sprawled out on the living room floor, facedown, with one foot up on the couch, much like she had been lying on it but had at some point fallen off. A blanket was tangled around her limbs. She didn't stir at Katie's entrance, just made a pitiful sound.

Katie hung her bag up in the front hall and made her way further into the flat. Keeping a safe distance from the blonde girl on the floor, she headed to the dining area and sat down on the least-cluttered chair. Not sure what else to say, she tried another, "Alicia?"

There was an answer, but seeing as Alicia's face was still pressed into the carpet, it wasn't comprehensible.

"One more time," said Katie. Considering the scene before her, she added, "Please."

Alicia rolled over onto her back. Unsurprisingly, she looked miserable. Her normally impeccable blonde hair was a tangled halo around her shining face. Makeup dripped from her red, swollen eyes. Voice small, she said, "Oliver's dating Penelope Clearwater."

With utmost delicacy, Katie answered, "I thought you already knew that."

She wiped her nose with the hem of her silk blouse. "I'd heard it, yeah. But people have been saying it for years, and I never believed it before! I never took it seriously! But today we were talking and he said… h-he said… he said that, tha-that…"

She was beginning to devolve into hysterics. Katie crossed her legs and asked, "What did he say, Alicia?"

"They're together!" she wailed.

This was not new information. As Alicia had mentioned, it had been literal years since the first time someone spotted Oliver and the Wizengamot aide out on a date. Katie was fairly certain that his status in the Witch Weekly database was 'taken'. This had never stopped Alicia from pursuing him before, so Katie was interested to find out just what the tipping point was.

"What does he see in her?" Alicia demanded, not yet playing into Katie's curiosity.

Katie was unsure whether or not to protect her feelings. On one hand, she was her best friend. On the other, nothing good would come from coddling her. After a brief deliberation, she decided on honesty. "She's beautiful, she's smart, they've a load of the same friends. She has a great job and she's probably going to get promoted soon. Not to mention, she–"

"Thank you!" Alicia shouted. "That's enough. I've got it. She's amazing. May I just remind everyone, though, that she's probably shagged Percy Weasley? So let's not forget that."

The thought of it made Katie cringe. Nothing about the third-eldest Weasley brother was the least bit sexy. In fact, she would have preferred to live her life never having thought of him labouring away on top of a woman, the effort of it fogging up his horn-rimmed glasses. She pressed it from her mind.

"I don't under _stand_ ," Alicia moaned, rocking back and forth as she dragged out the last syllable. "He came to the wedding, so why can't he just forget her again and come to George and Ang's party with me? Is it so hard to do me a favour? Would it kill him to see our friends? Just because Penelope effing Clearwater has some kind of 'work event' and it's 'important'. I'm important!"

"That's what this is about?"

The harsher-than-normal tone made Alicia pause her histrionics. Generally, Katie humoured her tantrums. Squinting as though she didn't quite understand the question, she said, "Me being important? Of course it is. That's what everything in my life is about."

Mad that she even had to say it out loud, Katie not-so-gently suggested, "Go by yourself. You know everyone that'll be there, Al. I promise it'll be fine."

She rolled back over onto her stomach, but left her face turned towards Katie so she could more effectively whinge. Eyeing her over, she asked, "Who are you bringing? If it's Cormac again, we're having an intervention."

"We talked about this," Katie said, suddenly unable to look past her own shoes. "I'm not going."

In a very sudden shift of emotion, Alicia guffawed. "You're taking that postcard seriously?"

Katie bristled. "Yes, Alicia, I'm taking it seriously! You read it. He told me he never wants to see me again! I can't just show up at his coming-home party like nothing happened."

"Fuck it." Alicia leapt to her feet. Katie couldn't say that she was a fan of the blonde's newfound flippancy. "You're coming with me. Molly doesn't know, and George won't say anything in front of her. It'll go off without a hitch, so long as we stick near the kitchen."

"Hold on," said Katie. She couldn't believe her ears. "Molly doesn't know?"

Alicia's face scrunched up in apparent confusion. "Why would she know?"

"Everyone knows!"

"Molly adores you," said Alicia, finger-combing through her messy hair. "You're basically her adopted daughter, Katie. I wish she liked me as much as she likes you. No one wants to be the one to break it to her that you've done something wrong. Everyone knows she likes to shoot the messenger, and you've got so much goodwill built up that I'm sure she'll get nasty."

Katie felt lighter than she had in days. Molly didn't know.

"Anyway, now that's over." Wiping the mascara from her cheeks, Alicia headed to her bedroom. It was always a wonder how quickly she could go from the absolute pits of despair to complete normality. "Which of my clothes are we wearing tonight?"

Although they ended up choosing dresses from their own respective closets, they did coordinate florals. By the time they were ready to apparate to the Burrow, one would never be able to tell that Alicia had spent half the night weeping. Katie, for her part, looked okay. Maybe she would have looked better if she weren't overcome with nerves, but her stomach was being assaulted by butterflies. George would be there, and he wouldn't be happy with her.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Katie asked for what felt like the eighth or ninth time in the past half hour.

Alicia rolled her eyes. "Of course it is. Don't be stupid."

With that friendly assurance, she disappeared. Katie followed. In the crushing somewhere between her flat and the Burrow, panic hit her. There was no conceivable series of events in which this plan ended well. Best case scenario, George ignored her all night and she was forced to face the fact that things would never be normal between them again. Worst case scenario, she… she didn't want to think about it.

Twilight in Ottery St. Catchpole was as undeniably beautiful as ever, but the view was lost on her. She was too busy trying not to vomit. Dainty fingers laced through hers. Alicia nudged her with one tiny shoulder and said, "No point in dragging it out, right?"

Hand-in-hand, they walked towards the brightly-lit house. Happy voices drifted through the windows into the night air, accompanied by the smell of cooking meat. Just like any of the other hundreds of times Katie had made this trek. If she did a bit of mental gymnastics, she could almost pretend she was at ease.

The front door was propped open by a large, dirty pair of work boots. Katie and Alicia had barely taken three steps past them before they were intercepted.

"Oi!" said Lee from the kitchen's entranceway. He rushed towards them with arms outstretched. Rather than hug them, however, he grabbed them by the upper arms and hissed, "What the actual fuck are you doing?"

"Attending our friends' party," Alicia snipped. She tried to pry Lee's fingers off of her arm, but he proved too strong, so she stomped on his foot with her stiletto. He released. "Is that a problem?"

"Is that a problem? Is that a _fucking_ – hold on." Lee took a moment to compose himself. After a few deep breaths, he tried again. "Yes, Alicia, it is a problem."

"Why? If anyone should be here tonight, it's the wedding party."

He looked at Alicia like she'd grown a second head, and it too was spouting complete idiocy. "Have you spoken to George recently?"

Alicia inspected her nails. "No."

Before Lee could enlighten them as to what the groom had been saying, Katie cut in. "Listen, I'll just leave. No one but you two will ever know that I was here. You stay here and have fun, and I'll continue to avoid confrontation. All I have to do is–"

"Katie!"

"Oh, fuck me," Katie whispered. Arthur had spotted her from the stairs. Judging from the grin splitting his face, no one had told him about his second son's recent activities, either. Feigning enthusiasm as best she could, she called back, "Arthur!"

He pressed past Lee and enveloped her in a hug. As usual, he smelled a bit like motor oil, but not in an unpleasant way. Chin resting on top of her head, he said, "Oh, hello, Alicia! I didn't see you there."

Smile plastered on, Alicia answered, "Hi, Arthur."

After one more squeeze, he released Katie from the hug, but kept his hands on her shoulders. Concern darkened his usually twinkling blue eyes. "How are you holding up? I didn't get a chance to talk to you at the ceremony."

A wave of emotion crashed over her. It was all she could do not to burst into tears. Not even her own parents had checked that she was alright with the love of her life being married, officially and for always. Voice wavering, she answered, "I'm fine, Arthur, thank you. Really, I'm… I'm okay. I'm happy for them."

Pulling her in for another hug, he said, "It was very big of you to come tonight." A tiny wet patch spread across the collar of his robes. He was polite enough to ignore it when he let go of her again. "Molly will be excited you're here. Let's go get you a drink."


	7. Chapter 7

Katie was at least four drinks in. It was a bit hard for her to tell exactly how many she'd had; Arthur, bless his heart, had opened her up her own bottle of sparkling wine and was doing his best to make sure that her glass was always full. While flitting all over the kitchen, Molly fed her anything that didn't make its way to the table, and a few things that probably were meant to. It was a real wonder she hadn't just moved into the Burrow. She had been there enough over the years and, now that George wasn't living there, there was nothing stopping her other than her lease and Alicia's crippling fear of being alone.

"How have you been, dear?" Molly asked over the dull roar of the stovetop. "It's been so long since we've really seen you."

"I've been okay," Katie answered. Not even she could tell if her smile was fake.

Molly simultaneously poked at some boiling, brilliantly green asparagus and looked her over. "You've gotten thinner. You are eating enough, aren't you? You know I'm happy to send lunch for you to the Ministry. Just pick it up in Arthur's office whenever you get hungry."

Arthur, mouth full of cheese board offerings, chimed in, "Or even if you're not hungry, and you just need to get away for a moment."

This time, the smile was definitely genuine. "Thank you. I appreciate it. Really, I do."

"And Alicia!" said Molly. Alicia started. She had been examining a chip in her nails while attempting not to pout. Being anything other than the center of attention was sometimes difficult for her. "I hear you've had a promotion?"

With a flip of her hair, Alicia answered, "I have. I am now Witch Weekly's head sports reporter."

"I just adore your articles," said Molly. Several steaks, fresh out of the oven, plopped down on an oiled cast iron pan and started to sizzle. The rest (with the exception of one, which would stay raw) were outside grilling under Bill's supervision. After multiple tiffs about what was the best way to cook a good piece of meat, Molly and her eldest son had agreed to disagree. "I feel like I really get to know all of the players you profile. And no one breaks a scandal like you do, love."

That was all of the encouragement Alicia needed to launch into a rundown of the ever-expanding experimental potions investigation going on in the league. Molly and Arthur nodded and made noises of encouragement in all the right places, with Molly asking the occasional question when Alicia started to peter out. Katie let the conversation wash over her. She had almost allowed herself to grow comfortable by the time things went to hell.

George came in from the garden in a whirl of laughter and good cheer. Presumably, he intended to check on dinner and report back to everyone outside. Any plan he may have had came to a screeching halt when he caught sight of her. Pink flooded his cheeks and ear. His mouth hung slightly open, as though he'd been in the middle of saying something but lost it. After several hard swallows, he choked out, "Oh."

Lee saw what was happening before anyone else did. In his loudest Quidditch announcer voice, he yelled from the garden, "George! Come and take a shot with me! George, mate!"

George's gaze was unwavering. The garden gnomes could have rushed the kitchen and he wouldn't have noticed. He had eyes only for her. Voice strangled and strange, he said, "Come upstairs with me, please."

A thin arm wrapped protectively around her waist. Alicia bristled next to her. "She can't, we're having a–"

"Come upstairs with me, please," he said again." _Now._ "

Nothing good would come of standing her ground. All of the affection Molly and Arthur were displaying would likely dissipate at his first accusation, and things could only go downhill from there. Katie extricated herself from Alicia's grip and got up from the table. Mute under George's glare, she nodded.

Uncomfortable silence fell over the room as the two of them headed towards the hall stairs, George first and Katie close behind. The back of his neck was sunburnt, she noted idly, despite all of his precautions. She couldn't honestly consider herself surprised. He had a complexion that would make a geisha proud, if it weren't for the freckles. Halfway up the stairs, he paused for a moment to check that she was still following, shooting daggers at her all the while, then continued on his way.

By the time they reached the corridor outside of his and Fred's old bedroom, she had gathered up enough courage to say, "George?"

At the sound of his name, he stopped. Slowly, very slowly, he turned around. His eyes were wild, but his voice was oddly calm when he answered, "Yes, Katie?"

She shifted her weight from foot to foot, unsure of what she could say that wouldn't make things worse. Should she apologize straight off the bat, or should she probe a little to find out where his feelings were at past the obvious fury? Neither seemed like they would work out terribly well. Maybe it was for the best, then, that he didn't give her the opportunity to decide.

"I hate you," he announced, as matter-of-factly as if he were reporting the weather. "I don't think I've ever hated anyone more."

"HA!" The sound, more scream than laugh, tore out of her. All of her trepidation dissolved away, replaced by something very close to rage. She balled up her fits and shouted, "You hate me! _You_ hate _me_? Are you fucking joking?"

"For once," he yelled back, "no, I'm not!"

George and Katie stood there for a moment, staring each other down. It was almost like they were trying to decide who got to tirade first. After a few false starts and angry noises, George took initiative. "Let me explain it to you. First, you act like being in your friends' wedding is some kind of chore. You show up late to all our events, you drag your feet RSVPing, you make Angelina miserable through the whole thing." The pink in his face was beginning to transition to red. "Second, you bring McLaggen to the ceremony. Cormac McLaggen! The biggest tosser Gryffindor's put out in a long time, and you bring him to my wedding." Katie tried to interrupt, but he went on. "Third! You turn the reception into your own personal pity party, drinking and crying in the garden and oh, lest we forget number four, sleeping with my brother! You slept with my _brother_ , Katie!"

"I have a few counterpoints."

Opposition seemed to be unexpected. Blinking rather hard, he answered flatly, "Go on."

"One," she said, "those 'friends' also happen to be a boy I loved for a very, very long time and the girl who dated his twin. But I do apologize for lateness and the foot-dragging. Two, who the hell else was I supposed to bring?"

His jaw clenched. "I don't know."

She was beginning to work herself up now. It wouldn't have been a surprise if they could hear her on the ground floor. "Three, your reception… actually, forget it!"

"What?" he asked. "Have you tired of the format?"

"George, I loved you." Katie was no longer in control of the words spilling out of her mouth. Hot pinprick tears welled at the corners of her eyes. "I said that and I meant it and I thought you meant it, too. How can you stand here and ask me why McLaggen when I've never– why Angelina? Why my best friend, of all people? You're brilliant and you're gorgeous and you could have moved onto anyone you wanted and you… it had to be her. Why did it have to be her?"

He held up a finger as if to pause the discussion. Before she could protest his lack of answer, he turned and walked the rest of the way into his childhood room. Dumbly, Katie followed. When she was completely inside, he shut the door behind her. The only light came from the garden outside the windows. Unsure of what else to do with herself, she groped through the darkened room and sat down on what had been his bed. He joined her. There was an arm's breadth between them, just enough so that they weren't touching.

Speaking very quietly, he said, "I loved you, too."

"Then why did you–"

"Merlin, Katie," he said, grim expression cracking into the briefest of smiles. "Let me talk. I know, you haven't had the opportunity to fight with me for a while. We can get back to it when I'm done."

She tilted her head back, willing away the tears that were still threatening to spill. "Sorry."

"You're forgiven," he said with a gentle bump of his right arm against her left. "Anyway, I reckon I still love you. Which is a right pain, seeing as I'm, y'know…"

"Married," Katie supplied. "To my friend."

"Married to your friend," he allowed. "She misses you, by the way."

Katie couldn't bring herself to muster up any sympathy for Angelina. "Good for her."

"I'm serious," he said. "Would it kill you to talk to her every once in awhile? You've only been best mates for ten years."

Something ugly stirred inside Katie. "Have we been? Because last I checked, best mates don't pounce on their _best mate_ 's boyfriend a month after they end because he looks like his dead brother. They don't cut communications down to a bare minimum because they don't want to hear criticism. And they especially don't invite her to their wedding just to rub how happy they are in her face."

"That's not what–"

"No?" Katie demanded. "What was it then?"

"You were really hard to love for a while there, Kates, you have to know that. It felt like no matter what I did, I couldn't make you happy. Which was hard, because no matter what I did, I couldn't make me happy, either. I lost Fred, I was losing you, it was all just… it was all too much for me." His voice was beginning to break. Guilt for her harsh words hit her like a brick. In an attempt at a silent apology, she placed her hand on top of his. He didn't pull away. "This is going to sound mean and I'm sorry for it, but Ang didn't crumble like you did. Like the both of us did, I guess. And I know I was Fred to her at first. How could I not be? He was always the better twin."

"Shut up," Katie said, as gently as possible. "He was not."

"He was, but it doesn't matter." George took a long, shuddering breath. "I love her. I knew I could, 'cuz he did. I don't love her like I ever loved you, I admit that."

"Shut up," she said again, louder this time.

"You were my girl," he said with a wistful half-smile. "My Hogwarts sweetheart, destined to spend your life with me telling stories of all the stupid things we did in our youth to people who wouldn't care to hear 'em. For a long time, even after we broke up, I was convinced it was you whose sick arse I would be vowing to take care of forever."

The tears were coming back. "Please shut up."

"I don't– it's not going to work out for us." He flipped his hand over and gave hers a gentle squeeze. "I'm married, right? No going back from that now. But I still have a favour to ask you."

Katie sniffled. "What's that?"

No words came out of George's mouth. Instead, he rubbed circles against the back of her hand with his thumb. Her skin tingled at the touch. Against her better judgment, she rested her head on his shoulder. All of the anger from just moments before drained out of her. It was almost soothing, sitting there with him.

After what felt like quite a long time in the dark, quiet room, he took a sharp breath. "Stay away from my brother."


	8. Chapter 8

_Stay away from my brother_.

The words echoed in her head long after she excused herself from the party and apparated home. Alongside the 'I hate you's and 'I love you's, they grew louder and louder and slowly drove her mad. Nothing she did – not the attempt at meditation, nor the walk around the block, nor the two solid minutes she spent screaming into a pillow – worked to silence George's voice. So she stayed awake, tossing and turning and trying to come up with a plan.

Katie had never liked being told what to do. Had she not been good friends with her Quidditch captains, it was more than likely that she would have been kicked off of the team on multiple occasions for failing to take direction. George should have known that. He should have expected that expressly telling her to cut off contact with Charlie would make some twisted, rebellious part of her only want to see him more. It was stupid of him, really, to think it would work.

The only issue now was getting to Romania. There was no chance in hell that she was going to fly there. Saddle sores and hair that would stay tangled for days after the journey was over were not exactly the way to win a bloke's heart. Also, she knew that the possibility that her boss would approve a week-long vacation was slim-to-none. She needed something faster. Apparition was right out; she intended to keep all of her limbs attached. It was possible that she would be able to Floo there, if she could find a fireplace to borrow, but she had no idea what destination to proclaim. Romanian Dragon Sanctuary? Middle of nowhere, Băneasa Forest? Charlie Weasley's yurt? The only people who would know were unlikely to support her intentions to travel there. Besides, she wasn't sure that England and Romania shared a Floo network.

A portkey could work. None of the dangers of apparition, all of the near-instantaneous travel. The only downside was that they required clearance and set-up from the Department of Magical Transportation. Without an in, a witch or wizard would generally have to put in a request at least a week-and-a-half in advance in order to go anywhere. That was an unacceptable amount of time to wait, especially if there were more sleepless nights ahead of her. She thought harder.

It came to her in a flash: Percy worked in the Magical Transportation office. She wasn't one-hundred percent sure what he did there (despite the fact that he had discussed it around her at least four or five times), but if there was anything he was good for, it was overextending his authority. All she would have to do was imply that he couldn't expedite the portkey process and she would be in Romania before lunch.

She leapt up from her bed and considered brushing her hair before slowly, dejectedly sitting back down. It was four-fifteen on a Saturday. No one but those unfortunate souls assigned to the graveyard shift would be at the Ministry. And once normal working hours came around, there still remained the fact that it was the weekend. Was she willing to stake a trip to the Ministry on the off-chance that Percy would be there?

Yes, she was.

At the stroke of nine, Katie squared her shoulders, smoothed her (borrowed) skirt, and strode off the elevator onto the Ministry's sixth level. Surely he would be there. He had to.

A plump, mousy-looking witch of about fifty was the first person Katie laid eyes on. She was pouring herself a cup of tea in the department's kitchenette, not ten feet to Katie's right. Much as she hated to interrupt such an important morning ritual, Katie cleared her throat loudly and said, "Excuse me?"

The witch jumped, sloshing tea all over the counter. She clutched at her chest and gasped out, "Morgana's left tit, you scared me!"

Katie put a hand over her mouth to cover the smile threatening to grow there. When the two of them had both regained their composure, she said, "Sorry, but is Percy Weasley here?"

"Course he's here," the witch said with an airy laugh. "He's always here."

Resigned to the fact that she would sound stupid no matter how she phrased the question, she asked, "What exactly does he do?"

The witch looked at her like she'd asked who Harry Potter was. Cleaning up the spill with her wand, she said, "Deputy Head of the department, isn't he? Well, acting Deputy Head. Right laugh that is, considering he's, what? Twenty-five?"

"Twenty-three," Katie corrected absent-mindedly. There she was, filling out forms for a living, and Percy was halfway to running his own Ministry department. Maybe she should have taken him more seriously when he interrupted Quidditch sessions at the Burrow's orchard to recommend they all study for their O.W.L.'s. "Until August."

Another not-quite-convincing titter. "So you know his birthday, but not what he does for a living? Who are you, exactly?"

Indignant, Katie made a noise halfway between a scoff and a laugh. "I'm his brother's… friend."

"Right," said the witch. "Well, his office is down that corridor there. Knock first."

Katie did as she was told. At the heavy, closed wooden door bearing a golden nameplate embossed with _"Percy I. Weasley"_ (which caught her by surprise, as the twins had always maintained that his first name was short for Percival, Perseus, or Persimmon, depending on the day), she stopped short and gave three sharp raps.

"Come in." His voice barely carried through the barrier.

Percy's office was much larger than Katie had expected. It was at least twice the size of the entire Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, and that had held two employees last she saw it. Aside from a grand, very cluttered desk that appeared to be made of the same light wood as his wand, the only decorations were an oversized houseplant and a crackling fireplace flush in the left wall.

A sheaf of parchment, covered in what looked like his own neat handwriting, held his attention for a long moment after she opened the door. When he finally looked up, something close to shock flitted across his freckled features. "Katie Bell?"

It hadn't been long enough since she'd seen Percy for her appearance to warrant that kind of reaction. Granted, she had never been in his office, but he'd seen her knickers little more than a week before and that felt like the same level of intimacy. Deciding to skip over formalities and right to an explanation of why she was there, she said, "I need a portkey."

"Ah." He laid the parchment down. "Although I appreciate that you've chosen to come to me for help, I'm afraid you really do need to speak to someone in the Portkey Office. The minutia of portkey creation is best left in their capable hands."

Katie had a distinct feeling that she was being brushed off not because he couldn't help her, but because he didn't want to. "Have I done something wrong?"

He picked the parchment up again and looked it over with narrowed eyes. "I haven't the slightest idea what you mean."

"I'm–"

Before Katie was even sure what she was going to say, Percy was talking again. "It's not that I don't like you, Katie. You've always seemed a well-meaning girl, if a bit brash. I was absolutely gutted when I caught wind through friends here at the Ministry that you had been cursed. I almost visited you at St. Mungo's." She didn't believe that for a second, and apparently it showed on her face. "Obviously I didn't, because I wasn't speaking with George at the time and it would have been difficult to explain to the healers how I knew you. But I really must draw the line at you going to see Charlie."

She could feel herself turning red, heat creeping across her cheeks and up the back of her neck. The last person she wanted a lecture from was Percy 'Disown-Your-Whole-Family' Weasley. Rather than defend herself, she changed the subject entirely. "How's Penelope Clearwater doing these days?"

It was Percy's turn to blush. "She's– she," he spluttered. Finally, he managed, "I wouldn't know."

"Really?" asked Katie, doing her best to make her voice sound casual. "I would have thought you would, seeing as she's with Oliver now. You two are still friends, aren't you?"

"We lived together for seven years, of course we… He's a great man, Oliver. I don't know why you would suggest otherwise." His horn-rimmed glasses flashed, but not dangerously. It was more like he was looking around the room hoping for something with which to distract her. The plant did not comply. "After all, he didn't bring her to George's wedding because he knew it would up– he knew it could be taken the wrong way."

Although Katie had switched topics mostly to direct attention away from her own romantic life, she was actually interested in what Percy had to say. It may have been a first. "Is that why he went with Alicia, then? To stop talk?"

"Naturally. Nothing against your friend, but Penny is an ideal date: beautiful, brilliant, able to hold a conversation with just about anyone she comes across. Why, I remember her very first Wizengamot event after becoming an aide, she had the entire court under her thumb. Old Tiberius Ogden…" he trailed off very suddenly. "Of course, you don't want to hear about that."

It came as a surprise to even herself, but Katie did want to hear about it. It hadn't occurred to her before just then that Percy was in a situation incredibly similar to her own. Of all the Weasleys, he was not the one she would have expected to be commiserating with. "No, no. I do."

For a moment, Percy seemed unsure if she was setting him up to be a target of derision. Eventually, though, he waved his wand and a plush chair appeared before his desk. "Please, sit."

Katie sat. "What happened between you two?"

He took a deep breath and rearranged the papers on his desk. Slowly at first, he explained, "It all started when I moved out of the Burrow. I don't have to recount to you what happened; I'm sure you got the whole story from the twins." That was an understatement. Fred and George had spared no unkind word in the months after Percy's abandonment. "Penny was of a mind that I had made a mistake. She was right, of course – I was an idiot. A pompous fool who valued his career over those who loved him. She'd had enough of it, and told me I was no longer the man she had fallen in love with. She left. Months passed, years, and I didn't speak a word to her." Katie could have sworn there was a tear threatening to fall from behind his glasses. "After the Battle of Hogwarts, I went looking for her. She's Muggleborn, as you well know, and although I never saw her name on a list of the dead, I wasn't sure… I didn't know whether she would be there for me to find. She was. Since last I'd seen her, however, she had gone green."

A small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth, not unlike he'd just made a joke. It was an odd phrase to use. Outside of the context of nausea, Katie had only heard it from Alicia, talking about the Muggle neighbours replacing their 'washing machine' with a clothesline. Percy didn't seem the type to inject Muggle environmental efforts into his tale of a failed relationship.

He seemed to pick up on her confusion. By way of explanation, he said, "Peregrine Derrick."

Derrick, aside from having a stupendously terrible first name, had attended Hogwarts two years ahead of Katie. From what she remembered, he was fairly handsome. She only really knew him because he had, on more than one occasion, hit a Bludger directly at her head.

… while playing for Slytherin.

Percy _had_ made a joke. Or a pun, at the very least. Katie was so shocked she almost missed the next bit of his story.

"Despite being a cheat and a bully," he said, resentment clear in his voice, "Derrick never did join up with You-Know-Who's supporters. He may have been tallying up more fouls for Falmouth's record than anyone but Marcus Flint, but he didn't kill Muggles, and I suppose that was enough for Penny. They did, however, break up shortly after I went to see her. I can't say for sure that I contributed to the relationship's end, but I like to think that I talked some sense into her."

"So how did she end up with Oliver?"

"I don't know," he said. "Oliver won't tell me. All I know is that they're very happy."

Generally, Katie made a habit of not prying. This was partially because she just didn't care that much about what was going on in other people's lives, but also because she knew how much she hated it when someone kept pursuing a topic after she had made it clear she was finished talking. Alicia was especially guilty of this. In this occasion, however, it felt of utmost importance that she kept Percy going.

"And you?"

He looked surprised at the question. "Me?"

"Have you found anyone new?" Katie didn't like the way her voice trembled halfway through the question. "I didn't see whether you had a date last weekend."

"Oh," he said, and his expression softened. The resemblance to his brothers increased exponentially. "I have, yes. Her name is Audrey. She's quite lovely."

"Then please help me." Katie thought long and hard about how to phrase her appeal. She didn't want to ruin what seemed to be her and her least favourite Weasley getting on. "You've gotten over your Hogwarts heartbreak. I'm trying to get over mine. I promise I don't mean to hurt either of your brothers. Just… please help."

Percy was silent, staring at his own folded hands. Just when she thought he wasn't going to answer, he said, "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to pull a few strings."

She could have kissed him.

She didn't, though, because two brothers was already more than enough.


	9. Chapter 9

The skirt had been a poor choice. Splayed out on a forest path, nauseous and disoriented from being dragged across a continental divide by what felt like her navel, and flashing the world at large, Katie had certainly made better arrivals. Brushing dirt off her arse on the way up, she scrambled to her feet. Luckily, there was not another human being in sight. Or, she thought with a creeping sense of dread, maybe it was unlucky. Being in a foreign country by herself was not ideal. She picked up the cracked inkwell Percy had given her and clutched it tight to her chest, willing it to send her back to England. Nothing happened. It looked as though she was stuck in Romania for the next twenty-four hours, just as promised.

"Well," she said out loud. A bird took off from a nearby tree with a loud squawk.

Percy had said to head north. Allegedly, she had been transported just outside the bounds of the reserve, only a short walk from the visitors center. Not willing to stake wandering through the forest for hours on her own sense of direction, strong though it may have been, she pulled out her wand and whispered, "Point me."

Just as she had expected, it aimed straight down the path. She went forward, taking care not to let the heels of her shoes sink into the occasional patch of mud. The outfit really was not her best sartorial decision. She may have looked nice in the brightly-lit, spotlessly clean corridors of the Ministry, but in this dim, oppressively green wood she was sure that the effect was leaning a little more towards ridiculous. Trousers next time.

After about ten minutes of careful walking, what she could only assume was the visitors center came into sight. A small, shabby building with a thatched roof and a cramped porch, its only identifier was a hand-painted sign nailed over the door that read _Sᴀɴᴄᴛᴜᴀʀ Bᴀʟᴀᴜʀ - NICIUN Îɴᴄᴜɪᴀᴛ̗ɪ_. It occurred to Katie that she didn't know a word of Romanian.

Fingers crossed that whoever was inside would have some sort of translation spell handy, Katie took the porch steps in one stride and threw open the door. The inside was no different from what one would expect of a park office. Dark wood panelled the walls, cluttered with faded posters and advertisements for events. A long desk lined most of the back of the room, ending just to provide room for a single, creaky-looking door. There was a little waiting area in the corner, its seats and table in various states of disrepair.

" _Te pot ajuta?_ "

The man behind the desk was striking, with a much deeper tan than Katie would have thought possible after seeing the rather grey sky outside. Dark curls struggled to escape the neat style he'd arranged them in. He couldn't have been much older than thirty. He was also leveling Katie with a stare that made her want to turn around and walk all the way back to Britain.

Hands up like she was surrendering, she said, "I don't speak Romanian."

"That's a relief," he answered, face cracking into a brilliant smile. "Mine's terrible."

Much to Katie's surprise, he had a tinge of West Country in his accent. Before she had a chance to answer, he went on, "Not nearly as bad as my Slavic languages, though. My Ukrainian sounds like someone's in the midst of slaughtering a goat. It's a wonder I managed to figure out what that chaperone was saying. Why didn't they send you along first?"

"What?" was all Katie could manage.

"You're with the school trip from Durmstrang, aren't you?" he asked, eyebrows furrowing.

"I am not."

"Oh. Then why are you here?"

"I'm here..." Katie started, wracking her mind for an explanation that didn't make her sound like a deranged person. Travelling two times zones on a whim just to visit someone she barely knew wasn't the sanest thing she'd ever done. "I'm here to see one of your dragonologists."

The attendant pulled out an official-looking stack of forms and peeled one off the top, then fastened it to a clipboard. Quill poised at the top of the sheet, he asked, "Are you having an issue with a resident dragon, or are you looking to do an interview?"

"Neither," Katie said. She squeezed the inkwell inside her pocket so hard it was a wonder it didn't break. "It's just a personal visit."

He made a check, then dragged his quill down the parchment. "Do you have a dragonologist in mind? I'm presuming you do, as it's a personal visit, but we've got procedure. You understand."

"Charlie Weasley," she answered, staring pointedly at the wall just behind him.

The clipboard hit the desk with a rattle. "Are you joking?"

This was enough to startle Katie out of her awkwardness. Quite a bit louder than she intended, she said, "What's that supposed to mean?"

The attendant stood up and began to make his way around the desk. Judging by his slow progress, there was a lot of clutter behind it that she couldn't see. On his way, he explained, "Sorry, it's nothing against you. There's just a running bet… stupid thing, you know, born out of boredom and isolation. Will Weasley ever have a girl round? Never brings the villagers back, never has visitors other than his family. Great lad, but– I mean, personally, I had started to think he was closeted. All the Hogwarts ladies loved him, but far as I can remember: nothing. I'll be damned." He stuck a hand out and said, "Rolf."

"Katie," she answered. She grabbed his hand and gave it a firm shake. "You went to Hogwarts?"

"Hufflepuff," he said with another grin. "Graduated in 1990, a year above Charlie. The two of us both helped Professor Kettleburn out with his classes when the whole limb-and-a-half thing caught up to him. Shall we go find him?"

"Professor Kettleburn?"

"Charlie." Rolf slid past her and exited the visitors center. Feeling like a bigger idiot with each passing second, Katie followed. She had to speed to keep up with his long stride. "Provided you didn't warn him that you're coming, he should be at lunch."

Pressing the thought that she really should have owled first from her mind, Katie attempted to make small talk. "Are you a dragonologist as well?"

"No," he answered, leading her further down the path. He seemed to reconsider, as he amended, "Sort of. I'm a magizoologist, specializing in capture, care and classification. The sanctuary is letting me study both their dragons and the animals in the surrounding forest, provided I welcome all their guests in the meantime. It's not a bad deal."

They passed beneath a wrought iron arch, and Katie stopped dead in her tracks. Dragon screams rent the air. She could see a jet of flame bloom just over a thatch of thick trees. In all of her planning, she had never actually considered the fact that she would be face-to-face with dragons.

After a few more steps, Rolf seemed to realise she wasn't following. He turned around and said, "Neat enchantment, isn't it? The Muggles in the village down the way would run us out if they heard them. They think we're miners."

"Right," Katie said weakly. "How many dragons do you keep here?"

"About a hundred. Sometimes more," Rolf said, calm as if they were discussing how many puppies and kittens were at the local pound. "The population tends to fluctuate, depending on the political climate in the countries they're coming from. Also, how many people the wild ones killed before someone managed to subdue them."

"Huh."

"Mess hall's right over here," he said, pointing to a long, squat building to the side of the path. "Do you mind if I walk you in? I want to see the look on everyone's faces."

"Yeah, go for it," she said. Before she could stop herself, she added, "How big a prat do I look like?"

Rolf's eyes roved over her, taking in everything from her muddy, black leather shoes to her presumably mussed hair. Finally, he said, "Compared to most of the girls that come around here, you look like Helen."

A laugh escaped from somewhere deep inside her. "Thanks."

The doors of the mess hall swung open before him without so much as a touch. A few cries of 'ROLF!' erupted from within. Katie steeled herself and followed, taking care to breathe, lest she faint when all of the attention turned. Unlike Alicia, she wasn't a fan of having eyes on her.

The dragon tamers weren't nearly as odd-looking as Charlie had made them out to be. Dotted along two long, scrubbed wooden tables, they looked more or less like normal wizards. It was true that they were a bit larger and dirtier than average, and that there was far more facial hair than she was used to seeing at the Ministry, and that they were tearing into their lunch like it had personally wronged them, but other than that there was nothing at all offputting about them. At least until they all turned to look at her, at which point terror rooted her to the floor.

"Wait here," said Rolf, taking off down the far row. She nodded meekly.

As soon as Rolf was out of reach, a rangy blond wizard with startlingly pale eyebrows and eyelashes sidled up next to her. There was a manticore tattooed on his neck. He looked her up and down, and she was left feeling much more unsettled than when Rolf had done the same. The feeling intensified when he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her closer.

"Can I help you?" she snapped, yanking her arm back. Unwanted physical contact was apparently enough to break her out of her social anxiety-induced paralyzation.

Several metal teeth glinted in the hall's dull light as he spread his lips in what she supposed was meant to be a smile. In a heavy accent that sounded almost, but not quite, German, he said, "English? Durmstrang doesn't hire Englishwomen."

"She's not with Durmstrang," came a deep, familiar voice. "She's with me."

A thick arm rested lightly on her shoulders. Katie felt her breath catch in her throat. Charlie's body was putting off so much heat that it felt like she was being hugged by a furnace.

The wizard raised his near-translucent eyebrows. "She's with you?"

Charlie gave a little cough. "Uh-huh. Is that a problem?"

" _Scheisse_." Any malice that had been on his face dropped off of it. "I owe Teyber much gold."

There was a booming laugh behind them that Katie assumed came from Rolf. Katie chanced a look at Charlie. The blush stretching from his hairline to his neck and spreading back onto his ears was so deep he was nearly maroon. Still, his expression was one of relative calm. Voice even, he said, "If I had to guess, a lot of you idiots are losing money today." The arm around her shoulders tightened. "Katie, let me show you the rest of the sanctuary."

"Yep," she said.

The two of them marched out of the mess hall, Katie close by Charlie's side. After two or so minutes of walking in silence broken only by the roaring of dragons and the occasional clanking chain, Katie couldn't take anymore. "I'm sorry to drop in on you like this, I should have owled first. I was just so set on coming that I didn't–"

Charlie stopped dead, and swung Katie around to face him. Though still red, he was beaming. "Are you serious? That was brilliant!"

Katie blinked hard several times in an attempt to clear her mind. The answer was so far from what she expected that she wasn't sure how to proceed. "You… you're sure?"

"Yeah," he said. One big, rough hand enveloped hers, and they were on their way again.

He was too strong for her to drag him to a stop, so Katie was forced to voice her protest. "I don't want to see a dragon. Not right now, anyway. The last time I did I nearly lost consciousness."

Charlie laughed. It was a warm, almost musical sound. "We're not going to meet a dragon."

Before she could ask where they were going, they entered another clearing. Rows upon rows of round, off-white platform tents spread out before them, each with a wooden door and two mesh windows nestled in its front. Charlie made a left and headed down the second aisle. Half a dozen or so down, he stopped and bounded up the yurt's three small steps.

He entered, and Katie followed. She had just enough time to note that the inside was larger than the outside before she was wrapped up in his arms, his lips pressed to hers. After what could have been either a few seconds or several hours, he pulled back. Cheeky smile firmly in place, he said, "Welcome to Romania."

In an instant, she was in the air, held up by a heavily muscled arm at her waist and her legs around his hips. Her back hit the wall of the yurt. Somehow, Charlie's lips didn't leave hers again through hiking up her skirt, unbuttoning the fly of his jeans, and pushing her knickers to the side. Her back arched involuntarily at the contact, and she could feel him grin. Agonizingly slowly, he kissed a trail from her collarbone, up her neck, to just below her ear. "May I?" he breathed.

"Oh, fuck yes," she answered.

* * *

 **Thank you so much for the lovely reviews! The next few chapters are already partially written, so it shouldn't be too long.**


	10. Chapter 10

For how thin and well-worn it was, Charlie's bed was rather comfortable. Thank Merlin for that, because Katie hardly left it apart from two brief meal breaks and an ill-fated jaunt to meet Charlie's favourite Antipodean Opaleye. The one time he had to leave to do his job – he had convinced Lechner, the blond wizard, to take over most of his duties as penance for harassing her, but the Austrian refused to subject himself to padding an adolescent Horntail's spikes – she napped. It was a lovely experience overall.

There were about twenty minutes left before the cracked inkwell sitting on Charlie's nightstand would take her back to London. Katie was doing her best not to look at it, instead focusing all of her attention on a particularly distinct trio of freckles just below his left collarbone. His chest rose and fell beneath her head with each deep, even breath he took. Their limbs were so tangled that it was hard to tell who ended where.

"What are you thinking about?" he mumbled into her hair.

"Leaving," she answered. "And how I don't really want to."

"You can always come back," he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. "No promises that I'll be able to skive off next time, but I've a few free days a week. I'll owl you my schedule. Maybe we can visit Bucharest. I haven't been in years, but from what I remember the wizarding bits are pretty nice. I hear they've put in a new pub right next to the post office."

The suggestion of a future between them, of whatever capacity, put a pit in Katie's stomach. There was a question inside her that had been fighting to get out since she first saw him in the mess hall. She had managed to keep it down thus far, helped by the many pleasant distractions Charlie had provided. But her departure was looming, and she wasn't sure that she would ever ask if she didn't then. "Why me?"

He peered down his broad nose at her. "What's that?"

"What I mean is…" She struggled with phrasing for a moment before deciding to just let the words spill out as they came. No matter what his reaction, the inkwell would be taking her home. "Every time someone mentions you, they always make sure to bring up that you've never been one for girls. Not how lovely a person you are, not how amazing it is that you're here taming dragons – it's always something about how you've never brought anyone round. It's like your trademark at this point: Charlie flies solo. And Rolf mentioned when I met him that you had all kinds of admirers at Hogwarts. So I guess– I dunno, I just don't know why I'm any different from anyone who's tried before. I'm not that great. Why the… why me, why now?"

"My biological clock is ticking," he said, solemnity betrayed by the laugh that followed.

The pit grew. "Charlie, I'm serious."

He sat up slightly. "So am I. It seems like every time I come home, the Weasley clan is hitting a new relationship milestone. Girlfriends, engagements, marriages. Any day now, the wildly world-famous Harry Potter will announce he's officially joining the family like he's been threatening to for years. Percy's tricked another girl into thinking he's tolerable. Hell, Bill and Fleur had a baby. I'm her godfather, did you know that?" The silvery-haired infant had been present at both George and Angelina's wedding and the coming-home party, but Katie hadn't seen much of her. She generally tried to stay away from children. "I like being alone, but it gets a bit rough when you're the only one who is."

"Yeah," Katie said softly. "I know what you mean."

"So there I was, sitting in the garden at the Burrow, woe is me." A smile tugged at the corner of Charlie's mouth. "And along comes a beautiful girl, just my type. I would have been an idiot not to try my luck. As it turns out, I quite like spending time with you. Sex on its own is fine, I guess, but I dunno, I was never really moved before to keep trying after it was done. Being with you isn't like that. It's nice. Not saying I'm changing my ways or anything, but I do want to keep seeing you. Maybe we can finance a vacation with all the gold changing hands over the revelation that I'm not gay."

"I'm your type?" Katie asked. It was probably the least important part of his little speech, but she had never heard that before. Her self esteem was fine; people had told her she was pretty plenty of times. No one, however, had ever explicitly told her that she was what they looked for. Alicia – little, blonde, and busty – was much more in keeping with what she imagined men wanted. "What's your type, loud girls with poor foresight and slight overbites?"

Charlie laughed. He counted on his fingers as he listed off attributes. "Taller than average. Long, brown hair. Athletic, but still soft – you can tell she's done sport, but it's not the main focus of her life, at least not anymore. Hazel eyes... maybe a bit more on the green side, now I'm thinking."

"Is that your type, or are you describing me?"

"Yes," he answered with another laugh. The fingers of his free hand laced through hers. "This strictly hypothetical ideal girl has a job, but doesn't take it too seriously. Nothing she's afraid to leave. Her friends, on the other hand, she takes extremely seriously. No wonder they love her; they'd be stupid not to. She's got a sense of humour. She's smart. Brilliant, sometimes. She doesn't think much of herself, but she's wrong."

Emotions flooded through Katie, too many at once to effectively parse. Part of her wanted to cry. It was one of the nicest things anyone had ever said to her. Or, about her, she supposed. George loved to shower her with flowery compliments, but it was always clear that he was at least partially joking. Charlie seemed completely sincere. "Wow," she managed. "Now I really don't want to leave."

"You know where to find me," he said. "Maybe next time just skip over Rolf. It's best not to encourage him."

"How much time do I have left?" she asked.

Charlie glanced at the carriage clock on the nightstand. "Seven minutes. Want to go look at dragons until you disappear?"

Somewhat to her own surprise, Katie agreed. They made their way to the paddock closest to the clearing: three Norwegian Ridgebacks, a mother and two hatchlings. The mother paid them no mind, too busy keeping her children from ripping each other's wings off to notice when they sidled up to the fence surrounding their enclosure. This was much preferable to the Opaleye, which had levelled her with its odd, pupil-less glare when she was still a good half a kilometer away. Katie and Charlie stood side-by-side leaning against the fence, as close as they could be without touching. It would not have been good if the portkey clutched in Katie's hand were to drag Charlie back to England with her.

Just loud enough to be heard over the hatchling Ridgebacks' rumbling, he said, "I'll miss you when you go."

Katie opened her mouth to answer, but never got the chance. Romania went runny. It was noon.

She rammed head-first into the front door of her flat. It was against Ministry policy to create a portkey intended to transport someone into a private dwelling, so it appeared that Percy's idea of compromise had been to direct her return trip to the second-floor corridor of her building. Clutching at her pounding forehead, she released a stream of oaths that was interrupted only by the panicked noises coming from behind the door. Normally, she would have ignored Alicia's hysteria, but it was joined by a male voice that was clearly trying not to be heard.

" _Alohomora_ ," she choked out, and pushed inside.

For not the first time in her life, she was face-to-face with a nearly naked Lee Jordan. There were cartoon owls on his pants. Alicia was nowhere to be found. Moving much more quickly than Katie was used to, he clutched a flowery throw pillow from the loveseat and used it to cover himself.

"It's nothing I haven't seen before," Katie said, still nursing her head. The full absurdity of the situation took a moment to sink in, not at all helped by the splitting pain just above her right eye. "Also, what the fuck?"

A high, false laugh erupted from Lee. He jumped at the sound. Backing slowly away from her, eyes darting from the still-open door to the windows and back, he said, "What? Can't a bloke visit his friend whose flatmate is out of town?"

"You're in your underwear," Katie felt the need to point out. Her mind was having trouble wrapping around that fact. "Why are you in your underwear?"

"Well it's a bit hot, isn't it?"

It was not. There was a cooling charm over the residence that kept it at a breezy 22° during the summer. Lee seemed to be able to tell that his excuse had fallen flat, as he visibly scrambled for another one. Katie decided to put him out of his mercy. "Just, please, for the love of Merlin, Lee, tell me the truth. Have you shagged Alicia?"

Lee scoffed in mock derision. "I would never."

With a bang, Alicia came bursting out of her bedroom. While she had managed to get herself fully dressed, none of it matched. She appeared to be wearing a backwards men's vest. Eyes blazing, she screeched at Lee, "Beg pardon?"

He wheeled around to face her, presenting Katie with a great view of both the very large and realistic spider tattooed on his shoulder blade and his rather nice arse. His headband, a relatively muted mauve that day, dangled precariously from his dreads.

"Leesh," he said, suddenly cajoling. "I didn't mean it. You know I didn't mean it."

"Oh, you _didn't_ _mean it_." Alicia's Lee impression was surprisingly accurate for a girl who was completely incapable of accents. Katie wondered what she sounded like when she was doing her. "You didn't mean that you find the thought of sleeping with me repulsive? Because it sure sounded like you did. Which is funny, because I seem to recall you saying earlier that you've been wanking over me for years! Not to mention–"

"That is enough!" Katie shouted.

Sporting identical sheepish expressions, her two friends fell silent and turned to face her. She took a deep breath that failed to calm her, then asked, "Can someone please explain to me what's going on here?"

Without a trace of embarrassment, Alicia said, "I'm getting over Oliver. Sorry you walked in on it, but it needed doing."

"Getting over him with _Lee?_ "

"Alright!" Lee protested. "Watch the tone, there."

Alicia cleared her throat. "He was available. And we've all already seen his todger, so I knew–"

"No," Katie cut her off. "Do not talk to me about Lee's penis."

"I've listened attentively to detailed descriptions of every one you've come into contact with, so I don't understand why we're drawing the line here."

Heat spread across Katie's cheeks, made worse by the grin Lee was trying to stifle. "Alicia! First of all, you asked about those. Second of all… I don't have a second of all. But please don't talk to me about Lee's."

"There's nothing wrong with it," said Lee, one eyebrow arched. "It's rather nice, if I do say so myself. Yeah, Alicia?"

Alicia gave him a brief look of appraisal, then nodded and said, "Yeah."

A distressed noise, not unlike that of a wounded animal, came from what felt like Katie's very soul. "Stop! Please. Stop. I don't want to talk about this ever again."

"I'll make you a deal," said Lee. The pillow was still held firmly in place.

"Anything," said Katie.

"We promise to drop this," he started, only to be interrupted by Alicia huffing. It was unlike her to drop anything, for any reason. She did, however, let him continue. "We promise to drop it on the condition that you go and work things out with George."

Immediately, Katie said, "Deal."

Lee raised a finger. "Like, right now."

She had a sneaking suspicion that the only reason for the time limit was that he wanted to finish what he had started, but she pushed it away. There was little that she wouldn't do to pretend that the whole thing had never happened. Alicia and Lee's sex lives had always been distant, nebulous things. She knew they existed, and she knew they were fairly active, but she'd never put much thought into them. She would have liked to keep things that way. With as much conviction as she could muster, she said again, "Deal. Soon as I change."


	11. Chapter 11

The last time Katie had stepped foot in Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, George hadn't yet changed the placement of the sign's apostrophe. As if the name change wasn't enough, someone had altered the ten-meter-high, top hat-doffing twin encased in the shop front. A long-standing argument had existed between Fred and George over just whom the thing was modelled after – George claimed that the slight bump in its nose was proof that it was him (in their very first Hogwarts Quidditch match, Lucian Bole hit him full in the face with a Bludger and he refused to let Madam Pomfrey heal it until three days later), while Fred maintained that it was far too handsome to be George. Now, though, there was a small, neat 'F' embroided into its pinstriped jacket pocket, just visible through the first storey windows. Stood in the street outside 93 Diagon Alley like she'd been frozen in place, she seriously considered forgetting the whole thing and going home.

The year after graduation, she had practically lived there. Never in her wildest dreams would she have imagined herself afraid to go inside. Eyes squeezed shut against the orange and purple monstrosity before her, she muttered, "Fucking hell."

Before she could talk herself out of it, she muscled through the crowd and into the shop.

"Hello, Miss Bell!"

The cheery greeting came from a cute blonde witch straightening a display in the front window. She looked just the same as the last time Katie had seen her, although her violently magenta robes were now trimmed with gold. Katie choked down a protest to being referred to as _miss_ and plastered on a smile. "Hi, Verity. You're a manager now?"

"Aye," she said with a radiant grin. "Actually, I'm _the_ manager. Second-in-command after Mister Weasley."

"Brilliant," Katie said vaguely, busy searching the store for a familiar orange head. Overexcited children, stressed-out parents, and suspect teenagers skulking around age-restricted displays filled every visible space, but there was no shopkeeper to be found. "That's great."

Verity followed her wandering eye for a few seconds, then said, "Miss Johnson isn't here. Or Mrs. Weasley, rather. I reckon she'll be back around supper."

"I'm not looking for Angelina," Katie answered, craning her neck to peer over a mountain of fireworks. "I'm here to see George."

As if summoned by the sound of his name, George appeared before her. Even knowing how many secret passages and hidden doors they had installed in the building, the effect was alarming. Even more alarming, however, was his outfit. The well-fitted jacket and trousers were a red, yellow, black, and white tartan; the shirt was a checked blue; and his bowtie and pocket square were yellow and brown, each a different pattern. The whole thing clashed brilliantly with his hair. So stunned was she by the combination that she almost missed the prosthetic merman ear. Although he had always staunchly denied being colourblind, Katie wasn't convinced.

"Katherine!" he half-shouted, face distorted by a wide, fake smile. "On the hunt for products to help you bewitch and beguile yet another of my family members?"

Verity paled. Already moving away from them, she said, "I think someone needs help in the WonderWitch section."

George ignored her. Apparently interpreting this as permission to leave, she took off at a jog towards the far side of the shop. Katie wished she could follow. Instead, she stood as straight as possible and said, "No, George–"

"Percy?" he asked, and he sounded pained. His voice remained very loud. "You got _Percy_ to rig up a portkey for you? He hardly likes us still, and here you've got him trading in favours for you. What's your secret?"

Katie didn't respond to the question. Instead, she asked, "Who told you?"

"Percy did," he answered, some of the false bravado dropping away. It was back quickly enough. "Shortly after you disappeared off to Romania, he realised what he'd done and came calling. Always lovely to get a visit from a sibling. I only wish he hadn't been bearing the news that you're _still shagging my brother_."

People were beginning to stare. Katie shifted awkwardly from one foot to another, doing her best to avoid eye contact with any of the curious patrons. "Are you sure you don't want to have this discussion somewhere else?"

"I am!" he declared, arms wide. A few seconds later, he lowered his arms, took a step towards her and corrected himself at a much lower volume, "Yeah, actually, we should probably go upstairs. Having a row in front of customers isn't the most professional thing in the world."

Katie bit back her desire to respond with something along the lines of 'we wouldn't be having a row if it weren't for you.' As satisfying as she was sure it would have been at first, there was no way it would be helpful to the task at hand. So she followed silently behind him as they ascended three flights of stairs. Muscle memory had her go for the top floor's first door on the left, the way to the living area, but George kept walking all the way down the corridor. She was to be shouted at in the office like an unsatisfactory employee, then.

Her breath hitched as she crossed through the door. Two desks still occupied the room. The far one, lacquered a shiny aubergine and with quite a few scuffs on its claw feet, was piled high with products in what looked like various stages of testing and rejection, but Katie could still make out a shining plate that read _'Frederick G. Weasley, O.M. (4_ _th_ _class)'_. There was no fourth class of the Order of Merlin. Looking further at it, Katie recalled an offhand comment Fred had made about deserving at least some kind of recognition for their contributions to wizarding society. The twins must have taken it upon themselves to create an appropriate award.

George leaned against his own, thistle-coloured desk and crossed his arms over his chest. "Why are you here, Katie?"

"Well…" For a brief moment, Katie thought about lying. She ultimately decided that trying to portray herself as coming out of the goodness of her own heart would only lead to a bigger argument, and said, "I walked in on Alicia and Lee mid-shag."

He uncrossed his arms. "Come again?"

"I bashed into the front door, heard voices, and when I opened it Lee was there in his pants." The ridiculousness of the situation, looking back on it, almost prompted Katie to laugh. "They admitted they'd been shagging and told me they'd pretend it didn't happen if I came and talked to you. So, here I am."

"Bloody hell." A broad smile spread across George's face, setting his false ear wiggling. He looked like a kid on Christmas morning. "Are you being serious?"

"Deadly."

"I'm going to send Lee a fruit basket. Or maybe a singing card."

Sleeping with Alicia, while certainly requiring at least some effort, didn't seem like an achievement worthy of receiving gifts. "Why?"

"He's been trying for… I'm not sure, probably five years now?"

This was news to Katie. Although it was true that Alicia and Lee spent an awful lot of time together, they had never seemed remarkably close. They just had the same friends. Plus, she was sure Alicia would have said something if she'd caught Lee making moves, or if she had any interest. Secrets were not her strong suit. "Has he?"

"Not actively," George allowed. He got up and began to pace around the office. "You know Lee, his attention span is about as long as a pixie's. But he's always said that he's going to be the one to fuck Oliver out of her – excuse the language. I never thought he'd actually do it. Cor blimey."

Katie sat down where he'd been and watched him weave circles around the room. "I feel like I'm missing something. Does he fancy her?"

"No, no." He flapped his hand like he was waving away the suggestion. Katie was offended on Alicia's behalf. George seemed to pick up the shift in mood. "Obviously, I don't mean to say she isn't worth fancying. She's brilliant. And he likes her well enough as a friend. Talks about her legs quite a lot, too. Lee just hasn't had a proper crush since Vicky Frobisher stood him up."

Katie recalled this vividly. In his sixth year, Katie's fifth, Lee had asked Vicky to the Yule Ball after weeks of mooning over her to anyone who would listen. She'd said yes, he'd spent loads of time and money preparing for a perfect date, and then she never showed up to the Entrance Hall the night of. Lee was crushed. He went to the Ball anyway and ended up disappearing halfway through with a girl from Beauxbatons, but he'd never quite recovered.

"Anyway," George went on, "Alicia's been a bit of a pipe dream for him. I think it got into his head when people started assuming they were a couple."

Alicia had never minded the mistake. When two-thirds of a group of six are visibly together, it was only natural to believe that the leftovers were paired off, too. Lee tended to be a little more touchy about it. It would make sense that it was because he secretly wanted it to be true.

A cat wandered into the office, cutting off her speculation. Katie recognized him immediately as the little ball of fuzz Angelina had adopted in her last year at Hogwarts as an attempt at reducing her stress over the captainship. He was the whole reason Katie and Alicia had started living together in the first place; Alicia was allergic to cats, and Angelina refused to give him up. Fluffy and pitch-black, with eyes like great yellow lamps, he leapt onto George's desk beside her and curled up on some paperwork. Katie scratched behind his ears. "Hello, Will. Where's Ang?"

"Are you making small talk with the cat, or do you actually want to know?" George asked. His arms were crossed again. The smile was gone.

"Er," said Katie.

"We had a fight this morning," George said, talking more to the far wall than to Katie. "She's off shopping with her mum now. Who knows when she'll be back."

Katie kept petting Will so she would have something to do with her hands. "What about?"

Maintaining their lack of eye contact, he answered, "It was stupid. I got mad about something I didn't have any right to, and things escalated."

"Well," Katie said casually, "when has not having a right to be mad about something ever stopped you?"

George didn't laugh, but he did come to lean against the desk next to her. Will provided a welcome barrier between them. Very softly, as though it hurt him to admit it, he said, "She called me Georgie."

"... yeah?"

He levelled her with a stare, blue eyes burning bright. "Think back, Kates. Can you remember a single time you ever called me that?"

"No," Katie admitted after a bit of thought. She wasn't one for pet names – with the exception of _Al_ , maybe. Even if she was, that one in particular was unlikely to come out of her mouth. "Because…"

"Fred did," he finished for her.

The twins had a wealth of self-given nicknames, everything from the infamous 'Gred and Forge' to 'Frump and Grot' to 'His Holeyness King George III and Frederick, Crown Prince of Denmark'. By far, though, the most prevalent between them were Freddie and George. They never referred to one another as such when speaking to someone else, just when addressing each other. Katie was painfully aware that in their last conversation, George had called his twin Freddie. When George recounted it, he'd cried so hard he could hardly get the words out. Some of the impotence she had felt then was starting to creep over her. Still stroking the purring Will, she said, "She didn't mean anything by it."

"I know." His chin rested on his chest. "But it quickly turned into our favourite argument of late, that I can't let go of the past. Your name came up."

"Sorry?" Katie tried.

George shrugged. "She's not upset with you. She's upset with me. She told me I was being selfish and immature. I told her she was being hormonal. Which, as you could imagine, did not go over well."

"Hormonal?" Although Angelina was prone to getting a little over-the-top every once in a while, the moods had never had any relation to her cycle. More often than not, they were either stress-related or provoked. What's more, George had never really been one to stoop down to period jokes. Ginny didn't stand for them.

"What?" George leapt up from the desk. His eyes were wide as saucers. "What are you talking about?"

"You just said that…" A realization dawned on Katie halfway through her sentence. "Oh, no."

Sweat broke out on his forehead. He spun to face the wall, face in hands. _Don't tell me don't tell me don't tell me,_ Katie chanted internally. Maybe if she got up and ran out then, she could take the last few seconds back. But she didn't. In fact, she heard her own voice prompt him with, "George?"

She was rooted in place as he turned to her, pale as a ghost, and choked out, "Ang is pregnant."


	12. Chapter 12

"When you say pregnant, how pregnant do you mean?"

George didn't answer. He seemed to stare through her, past where she sat perched on his desk and straight into the far wall, his blue eyes wide and shining and taking nothing in. Beneath her shaking hand, Will purred contentedly and curled into a loose ball.

Katie couldn't bring herself to wait for him to gather his thoughts. Growing shriller with each word, she asked, "Is she missed-a-period pregnant or met-with-a-Healer-and-he-confirmed pregnant?"

"Er," said George.

"George!"

"Erm," he said, clearly going for a bit of variety. Fists balled so tight that she could see the knuckles turning white, he took a deep breath, then said in a small voice, "About three-and-a-half months."

The world seemed to stop. Her own voice was distant, as if she was standing in the corridor and eavesdropping on their conversation. "Three-and-a-half months?"

"About fifteen weeks, yeah."

Katie struggled to visualize a calendar. "Fifteen weeks. So that means… no. You didn't."

"I didn't what?" George asked. He took a tentative step towards her, then, after what looked like serious deliberation, rocked back into place.

"Did you two…" None of the words that Katie knew were appropriate to use were being transmitted from her brain to her mouth. 'Conceive,' 'get pregnant,' 'forget protection,' and even her old favourite, 'fuck', dissipated somewhere into the ether, leaving her with little to go by. "Did you… you know, _do it_ on your birthday? Is she the thing because you decided, on your birthday, to… to..."

Against all of Katie's expectations, a smile grew on George's pale features. Savouring each word, he repeated, "Is she the thing?"

"Oh, fuck off!" Katie yelled. Startled by the sudden change in volume, Will leapt off the desk and streaked out of the room. "You know what I meant!"

It was too late to recapture any sort of gravitas she may have had. George dissolved into laughter. Whether it was because of nerves or the novelty of being the one to crack him, Katie quickly followed. Soon she was gasping for breath between bouts of giggling. While she worked to contain herself, George wiped the tears from his cheeks and sat in his desk chair. This put them much closer to each other than she was fully comfortable with; his right hand was mere centimeters from her thigh.

"I know you have difficulties with timekeeping," he said, still smirking, "but my birthday was seventeen weeks ago. Five months and a week before yours, give or take two days."

Katie shifted slightly on the desk's surface, papers she was sure were very important crumpling in her wake. "So, you didn't…"

"No," he answered with something like a sigh. Smile gone, he looked older. Tired. "We weren't trying. None of this was planned."

"But you are–"

"Keeping it?" he supplied. "Yeah."

Normally, Katie would have protested at the finishing of her sentences. Despite recent struggles with the discipline, she did very much prefer choosing her own words. But she knew that it was something of a comfort to him to do, so she didn't mention it. "You're only twenty-two. Ang'll be, what, twenty-three when they're born?"

George made an affirmative noise.

It was clear from the way he was starting to screw up his forehead that their respective ages was not a topic he wanted to wade further into. Katie switched gears. "How long have you known?"

"Since May."

"Since _May?_ " As the words came out of her mouth, she wished she could pull them back in. The repetition of timeframes had to have been becoming wearisome. "Sorry, I know you said that, it's just a lot to take in. How have you kept this a secret for that long? You're awful at secrets."

"Excuse yourself," George scoffed. "I'm fantastic at secrets. It's you lot of chatterers who can't keep your mouths shut."

Katie scoffed back. "You're fantastic at secrets? Explain to me then why my entire family knew what they were getting for Christmas three years running."

Pink crept across his cheeks. "Gifts aren't real secrets. I won't be demonised for wanting to spread joy."

"Telling my sister I was regifting her Alicia's _Witch Weekly_ PR packages is not spreading joy!"

He tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling. At a half-shout, he said, "I refuse to respond to these baseless allegations!"

"Look at me, you prat," Katie said, laughing again.

He did, and the laugh died in her throat. The sort of intense sincerity unfamiliar to her outside of whispered words in a darkened room shone stark in his eyes. A raw edge to his voice, he asked, "D'you remember our first kiss?"

She started at the question. She would be hard-pressed to forget it. A first kiss – a _very_ first kiss – was memorable no matter the circumstances, but when flanked on one side by Death Eaters rioting through the World Cup encampment and the other by the reappearance of the Dark Mark, it had become a moment that would stick with her forever. Even if it had been a bit wet. "Of course I do."

"Seeing you before the Cup, you were just Katie Bell," he said, absentmindedly massaging her knee. His eye contact was unwavering. "A bang-up Chaser and mate of mine and Fred's."

"Yeah, you tried to make me buy you a talking Ireland rosette," she added, the memory pulling the corners of her mouth into a smile, "because you gave all your gold to that fraud Bagman."

George glossed over the accusation. "Later on, when we ran into each other in the forest… I dunno, it's like suddenly I realised– I remember thinking: if it was you that the Death Eaters had, I would've done anything to get you back with me."

Katie placed her hand over his. "And then you didn't properly ask me out for another year-and-a-half, so fat lot of good that epiphany did."

"I wanted to be sure," he said, flipping his trapped hand over and lacing his fingers through hers. "And I was."

"George," she said softly, "what are you doing?"

For a long time, there was silence. Then: "I'm not sure now."

With as much delicacy as she could manage, she asked, "What aren't you sure about?"

"Anything," he said, and forced a chuckle. "In any part of my life. For one thing, I don't know how to run a business by myself. We're doing fine, but I've never been the– and Angelina's not as happy as she was with Fred. She says she is, tells me all the time, but I don't believe her. And I don't know if I'm as happy as I was with you, but now there's this baby on the way and… I just don't know, Kates. I don't know what to do, I don't know what I want. I don't know."

Part of her – a fairly big part – wanted to kiss him. She had never been any good at comforting people in times of need, least of all George. All she really had to offer was a hand to hold, an ear to listen, or a shoulder to cry on. Lips to kiss. And the distance between them was so small. Easily breached, and then things would be back to normal. George and Katie, Katie and George: the way things should be.

She let go of his hand.

"I'm sorry," she said, "but I don't know, either. Ang might."

Something close to shame flashed across George's face. He sat back in his chair and folded his hands in his lap. "Right. Yeah."

Not quite sure what to do with herself now, Katie got up from the desk. "I should go."

"Yeah," said George. He was looking intently at something, but she wasn't sure what. The only thing in his line of sight was a window with its velvet curtains drawn closed. "Yeah. Pass along my congratulations to Lee, would you?"

Whatever response Katie intended to give, nothing came out of her mouth. After a few seconds more of awkward silence, she left him in his office. The heavy door slammed shut behind her. She wasn't sure if it was George's doing, or only a draft, but she didn't stop to check. She was certain that if she didn't keep moving it would be the end of her willpower.

The hustle and bustle of the shop floors didn't quite penetrate her ears as she pressed her way through browsing customers, like she was wearing a heavy pair of muffs. A voice that sounded like Verity's called to her on her way out. She didn't turn to look.

If anyone had stopped her on her trip up the stairs in her building and asked how she'd gotten home, she wasn't certain that she would have been able to answer them. No one did.

The door to their flat was unlocked. She considered briefly knocking, but pushed her way in unannounced.

"How'd it go?"

Alicia, fully dressed now, was lounging on the couch, flipping lazily through a Quidditch magazine with her wand. She hardly looked up when Katie came in. Lee was nowhere to be found.

"Erm," said Katie. She walked aimlessly into the kitchen, then, upon realising there was nothing to keep her occupied there, back into the front hall. "I've had better conversations."

"Was Ang there?" Alicia asked.

More than anything, Katie wanted to tell Alicia everything that had happened. George hadn't been wrong when he said they were bad at secrets; she couldn't think of a single thing she'd managed to keep from her in nearly all the time they'd known each other. Not that she really ever wanted to. Alicia was like an auxiliary part of her brain, processing all of the emotions that she wasn't capable of working through on her own. Knowledge of this magnitude would generally have been announced in lieu of greeting.

Voice as even as she could make it, Katie answered, "No. She was out."

Alicia peered at her over the top of the magazine. It was clear that her odd behavior was not going unnoticed. "What did George say?"

"He said…" Katie trailed off as she crossed the living area. She made sure to have a firm grasp on her bedroom door handle before continuing. "He said we're fine. All is well. I'm going to go to bed."

"It's not even three." With a flick of her wand, Alicia's magazine closed up and joined a pile of its brothers on the coffee table. "Why are you being so weird?"

"Weird?" Katie repeated. She opened her door. "Hm."

Alicia started to get up from the couch. Before she could ask any more questions, Katie dashed into her room and slammed the door behind her. She considered locking it, but knew that wouldn't stop her flatmate if she decided she wanted in.

To her surprise, the knob didn't so much as rattle. The only indication that Alicia had followed her was how close her voice sounded when she called through the door, "I'll be out here if you need me!"

Katie collapsed backwards onto her bed. The duvet, still crumpled up where she'd thrown it off her body the previous morning, formed a down halo around her head. She pulled a free corner over her face. Why had anyone let her take the blinds off her windows?

"Fucking hell," she said, the duvet covering her mouth and her hands over top of it rendering the words as a sort of pained groan.

The sun had long set by the time she was able to quiet her mind enough to sleep.

* * *

 **Thank you, Tara. You guys ready for Angelina yet?**


	13. Chapter 13

"Oi!"

Katie's head snapped up from the employment ad for Ministry Authorities she was meant to be proofreading (in all honesty, she'd just sort of been staring at it and letting her eyes go in and out of focus). A tall, pretty witch with braids nearly to her waist stormed through the center of the room. Heads turned in her wake, with Angwyn the vampire going so far as to stand up to get a better look. Her expression was inscrutable. Katie sunk lower into her chair.

The pathetic attempt to hide didn't work. Angelina was at her desk within a matter of seconds.

"Hi, Ang," Katie said, taking a stab at a smile. From the feeling in her cheeks, it was more like a grimace.

Angelina's frown stayed set. "When's your lunch?"

Katie looked at the spot on her wrist where a watch would have sat. She'd never quite gotten around to buying one. Before she could make up an answer, Gladys cut in, "It's in an hour and fifteen."

Although she didn't turn to face the blue-haired muppet, Angelina's dark eyes flashed. It was a look Katie had rarely seen outside of Quidditch. She asked, "Was I speaking to you, Gladys?"

Gladys paled. She managed to squeak out, "No."

"Then how about you get back to work?" Angelina finished off the question with a bright smile, which was somehow more frightening than the glare it had replaced. After a bracing breath, she returned her attention to Katie. "Are you allowed a break?"

Katie weighed her options. She was, in fact, allowed two fifteen minute breaks throughout the day. Generally, she put them together and used them to take naps. She was unsure, however, that she was willing to be alone with Angelina until she was sure why she was there. On days past, a visit from one of her best friends would have been more than enough reason to abandon her desk. On this particular day, her arrival was a bit more worrisome.

"No," she lied. Angelina's brow furrowed. "I mean, I am, but I've already taken one this morning. Why?"

Full mouth thin, Angelina stared at her. Katie did her best to hold the eye contact. Angelina broke first. Gaze trained on Katie's overflowing in-box, she said, "This has gotten ridiculous. We haven't spoken in months."

"Well," Katie said. If there was one thing she wasn't going to do, it was apologise. At least not until she knew exactly what she was expected to apologise for. There was no sense in bringing up the specifics of her conversation with George the day before if Angelina didn't already know about them. Maybe she had just gotten around to opening their wedding gifts and had come to complain that Katie's set of bowls was the wrong type of glass. If Alicia's chattering was to be believed, anything other than borosilicate was completely unacceptable. One could only hope that cookware quality was the issue.

Still looking pointedly at her desk, Angelina went on, "I was downstairs at the BIQL Headquarters, and I–"

"Why?"

Angelina's nose crinkled. "Why was I down there?"

"Yeah."

"I was, er…" Her eyes darted across Katie's stacks of paperwork. "A few weeks ago when they were re-upping all the player information, I wasn't married yet, so they made me list myself as single. I went down to see if they would update it for me. You get better benefits if you're in a legal partnership."

"Is that it?" Katie asked. She kept her voice even, but the cheap, Ministry-issued quill in her hand was threatening to snap in half.

"What else would I be doing?" she answered with an airy, unconvincing laugh. It sounded like something that would come out of Alicia in the middle of one of her fits of hysterics.

"Oh, I don't know," said Katie. "Asking about maternity leave?"

It was as if all the strings holding Angelina up inside had been cut. "No one's supposed to know."

Not even Katie's ever-increasing commitment to bitterness was enough to stop her feeling a twinge of guilt. She stood up and placed a hesitant hand on Angelina's arm. Across the room, Angwyn hushed the older witch who sat next to him. "On second thought," Katie said, "I will take my break. C'mon."

The pervasive silence between them on their walk to the Atrium was unprecedented. Even Angelina's bridal shower had been less awkward – although that was due mostly to the fact that Katie had been absolutely barndoored from the party's start, and Angelina was too flush with happiness to notice. Now, Katie was sober, and Angelina seemed most comfortable staring at her own hands. The cobalt polish there was badly chipped.

They ended up seated at the same Ministry Munchies' table that she'd shared with Lee what felt like a lifetime before. Never a huge proponent of tact, Katie forged on ahead. "So three-and-a-half months now?"

Angelina dragged her gaze from her nails to Katie's face. It appeared to take a great deal of effort. After a few false starts, she answered, "I'm going to get tea. One second."

When Angelina returned to their table, she had two Ministry seal-stamped cups in hand. The milkier of the two went straight to her side of the table, but the other – a delicately green number with a delightful minty smell – she placed in front of Katie. As she sat back down, she watched Katie shrewdly, as if waiting for her to take a drink. Katie did not.

"It's Moroccan mint tea," Angelina said, a slightly defensive tone colouring the words. "You like it."

"I'm waiting for it to cool down," Katie replied.

"Hm," said Angelina. The half-truth appeared to be answer enough for her, as she set to dumping far more sugar than she usually liked into her own cup and stirring it into submission. "So who told you?"

"Er," said Katie, mind racing. Did other people know? If they did, did Angelina think she had been speaking to any of them? Ileara Johnson, while a handsome woman and efficient mother, was not exactly fun to hang around with. As for Ang's father, she'd had maybe two conversations with him over the course of a decade of knowing his daughter. She was getting off-track. "George did."

Angelina gave no response, just stirred her tea so hard the china rattled.

Profoundly uncomfortable with the continued silence, Katie began to babble. "I went to talk to him yesterday about Lee and Alicia – I don't know if he's told you, but they shagged and tried to start a discussion on Lee's penis and, Merlin, I'm getting nauseated thinking about it again – and, I dunno, I guess I sort of forced it out of him, because he made some comment about you and hormones and I latched on, but I'm so sorry, Ang, I shouldn't have brought it up, because if you two don't want anyone to know that's fine and I can just pretend I don't, and no one will ever hear it from me, cross my heart."

It seemed to take Angelina a moment to fully process the monster of a sentence. Then, the nervous scraping of metal against porcelain stopped. "You're the only one who knows?"

Katie nodded with slightly more vigor than was necessary. "Yeah. I promise I haven't told anyone."

"And you haven't–" She pursed her lips, then restarted, "No one's said anything about it but George?"

"No!" The sudden switch from nodding to shaking her head put a slight stitch in Katie's neck.

Angelina buried her face in her hands and took several measured breaths. When she emerged, a smile had bloomed. "Thank fucking Merlin. You have no idea how relieved I am."

Katie attempted to smile back. The expression was less a grimace this time, but it still felt foreign. She took a long sip of the now tepid tea as a cover for rearranging her face into something a little more comfortable. "Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, of course."

"Why's this– why are… erm, why…" It was become abundantly clear that her brain was not going to offer her any delicate phrasing, so Katie charged on. "Why's it such a big secret?"

"It's not," Angelina answered immediately.

Katie squinted at her. "Right, sure, but… you're not telling anyone. So it is."

"Katie," she said. "Obviously I wanted to tell you and Al the second I found out. But asking you two to keep something quiet is like asking a Bludger to play fair. Alicia more than you." After a moment's pause, her smile shrunk, and she added, "Also, we haven't really been talking, you and I."

Their escalating estrangement was not Katie's ideal topic of conversation. She hardly wanted to talk about the pregnancy, but at least that didn't involve any poor choices of her own. "Fair point. But why keep it quiet at all? Why does it matter who knows?"

"It doesn't…" Angelina started. It seemed that wasn't quite right. She tried again. "It's just… I didn't– Merlin's sake, I'm not making any sense."

Katie took a loud sip of tea.

An odd look, relieved almost, washed over Angelina's face. "I've got it. Right, so, at the wedding, did you feel like people were looking at you?"

Part of Katie wanted to be difficult and say ' _what wedding?_ ,' but she pressed it down. "Yeah."

"Okay, so imagine all those eyes on you." Against her better sense, Katie did so. No wonder her past self had gotten so drunk. Even in her imagination, the attention was overwhelming. "Only you're not just a bridesmaid, you're the bride. And you're pregnant. And no matter how many times you remind everyone that the wedding was planned before anyone ever knew about the baby, you know – you _know_ , in your heart of hearts – that they're all thinking you're only going through with it because someone forgot a contraceptive charm. So they clap and they cheer and they all smile at you, but behind it is nothing but doubt, right? And pity, too. Because if not for the baby, they're all pretty sure both you and the groom would rather be with someone else. That's why we didn't tell."

Tears shone in Angelina's eyes. Katie hadn't seen her cry since Fred's wake. Before that may have been… she honestly couldn't think of a time. She was meant to be the emotionally stable one. Katie clutched at her hands, trembling around the still-full teacup, and held them tightly in her own. "Ang, I'm so sorry. I never… I'm such a fucking twat."

"Well, yeah," Angelina said with a snort of laughter. "Things haven't changed that much."

"I'm serious," Katie insisted. "I've been awful."

Angelina shrugged one shoulder. The smile left in the wake of her laughter was as careless and pretty as any Katie could remember. "You did bring McLaggen to my wedding. Not sure that I'll ever forgive you for that one."

For a moment, Katie wondered if that was what she would be remembered as: Cormac McLaggen's one-time wedding date. She would have to ask Alicia if their coupling had made the event profile in _Witch Weekly_. At the moment, she had more pressing concerns. "Before that, though. And after. A screaming match at your coming-home party? What kind of friend does that?"

"An upset one," she said with another small shrug. "A rightfully upset one. I never… I really should have asked if you were alright with me and George. A long time ago. I'm sorry."

A mix of emotions that Katie had almost forgotten how to feel rose in her throat. "No, you don–"

"I should have asked," she said firmly. Somehow, they'd gone from Katie holding Angelina's hands to the opposite. "No excuses. Can you imagine how I'd've reacted if, I dunno, Alicia had one day decided she was going to get off with Fred?"

A vision of catfighting, wands long forgone in lieu of half-formed punches and ripping hair, flashed before Katie's eyes. "You would have killed her."

Angelina gave a ringing little laugh. "Azkaban here I come, yeah."

"The Dementors would be glad they were fired, if it meant they missed out on dealing with you," Katie answered, with a matching chuckle. "And Alicia'd come back as a ghost to write the trial coverage."

"Yeah," said Angelina. Although her smile had begun to fade, there was a warmness left in her eyes that Katie hadn't seen in a long while. "I'm being serious, though, Kates. You're a much better friend than I am. You agreed to be a bridesmaid, for Merlin's sake! I never could have. What's a screaming match or two compared to that?"

Something like embarrassment crept hot across Katie's cheeks. "I'm not. I'm just… I just don't… Ergh. You and… I dunno. Thanks."

Angelina gave her hands a squeeze. "Can we have a truce?"

Before Katie had fully decided on an answer, she was nodding. Pressing her emotions down had worked for a while, but she had to admit that she really, truly did miss Angelina. Alicia on her own just wasn't the same – two Gryffindor Chasers could never compare to three. "Yeah. Truce."

"So," Angelina said, eyes sparkling mischievously. "Tell me: how's Charlie in bed?"


	14. Chapter 14

The dinner was Angelina's idea — odd, because usually such an awfully thought-out, doomed prospect could have come only from Alicia. For a long moment after the invitation popped out of their toaster (rigged up to the Floo network so that scraps of parchment could make it through), Katie assumed Ang was acting as a front for their more harebrained third. But Alicia still didn't know about the pregnancy. Both days since Ang's visit to the Ministry, Katie had darted straight to her room after work, afraid that Alicia would take one look at her and know everything. Only the fact that Alicia tended to sleep til noon on Saturdays drew her out to the kitchen that morning.

 _Dee and Dum…_ the note began. It was Angelina's handwriting, undoubtedly, and her pet names. Katie took a deep breath through her nose and braced herself to read the rest. Even after their reconciliation, her nerves were shot when it came to Angelina.

 _Dinner at Rosa Lee's tonight! Triple date, usual time. George and I have something to tell you all.  
P.S. We've already worked it out with Charlie. xx_

"Fucking hell."

While Katie hadn't consciously chosen to speak, the words felt right. Whatever weird, tenuous truce she'd developed with George would be shattered the moment she and Charlie so much as made eye contact in front of him. She wouldn't be surprised if they ended up permanently banned from the restaurant.

As if she'd been awoken by the swearing, Alicia turned the corner into the kitchen. Her hair was a golden halo around her sleepy face. "It's too early for angry."

Katie brandished the note at her. "Read this, please. And it's eleven."

After a long, dramatic shuffle across the kitchen, Alicia took the scorched parchment from her and read it over. Her expression was inscrutable. Finally, she looked up and asked, "Who's my date?"

The question was so far from what Katie had expected that it took her a few seconds to process the words. "What?"

"My date," Alicia said again, gesturing with the parchment. "It's a triple date. George and Ang, you and Charlie, me and…?"

"Er," said Katie. Her brain was having trouble keeping up with this new direction. "Lee, probably?"

"Euch," she blanched, like she hadn't tried to sneak him into the flat under cover of darkness just the night before. He ran smack into the coffee table and nearly woke up the Mahotras with his carrying on. "That's no fun."

"I don't think fun is the—"

"Anyway," Alicia went on. The rest of Katie's thought died in her throat. There was no point trying to talk over her. "What do you think they want to tell us? Are they moving into a detached? Is George bringing someone in to help run Wheezes? Is Ang pregnant?"

An involuntary little noise bubbled up and out of Katie. She faked something halfway between a cough and a sneeze to distract from it, but it was no use. Alicia latched on. Wild-eyed and much louder than she had been only seconds before, she demanded, "What do you know?"

"Nothing!" Katie insisted. The word came out as something like a screech.

Alicia rounded on her, as much as she could round on someone who was already within arm's reach. "Ang is pregnant, and you _knew?_ And you didn't _tell me?_ "

"No, I don't know anything about it," Katie told the kitchen ceiling. Like a little girl who knew she'd been caught lying to her mother, she glanced guiltily at her flatmate. Alicia stared at her with narrowed eyes.

Then, great understanding washed across her features. As though she'd just made a discovery that would change the world, she said, " _George_."

"George would be the father," Katie answered, slowly. "Yes."

"No, no," Alicia said, swatting the words away with one neatly-manicured hand. "I know how monogamous conception works. I just also now know why you looked so upset Sunday. George told you when you went to see him."

No matter how many times it happened, Alicia seeing through her as easily as if she were a ghost always caught Katie off guard. She knew that keeping secrets wasn't exactly one of her strengths, but it was uncanny. Thankfully, Alicia wasted no time addressing her deception.

"How pregnant is she?" she asked. "Is she one missed period pregnant or is she elastic-front trousers pregnant? I know she's not showing yet, but maybe… I dunno, she's got incredible genes. Please tell me how pregnant she is."

"Er," said Katie.

Alicia fixed her with what have been her most histrionic glare in recent memory. "Katherine!"

This was it. Alicia was going to go barmy. In the most soothing tone she could manage (which was not, in fact, very soothing), Katie answered, "Almost four months now."

Katie expected a tirade. Screaming, pacing, foot stomping, accusations that she and Angelina always left her out of everything important. Maybe a bit of lying on the floor if she really worked herself up. But Alicia did none of that. Instead, she blinked once, rather hard, and said, "Hm."

Not one more word about Angelina's pregnancy came from Alicia's mouth. Not while she sat, stone-still, staring at magazines on the couch in a cheap imitation of casual reading. Not when she got in touch with the restaurant to bully the hostess into reserving them a better table. Not even when Katie (admittedly) goaded her by asking if the dress she'd borrowed made her look a bit thick around the middle. She was a scowling, seething cipher.

When they arrived at Rosa Lee's – ten minutes late because Alicia had sent Katie back to her room to re-brush her hair two times – their party was clustered outside in the shade of a maroon patio umbrella. George had one arm slung around Angelina's shoulders, the other holding a glass overfull with red wine. Angelina was sipping what looked suspiciously like water in a lowball glass. Clutched in both of Lee's hands was an absolutely monstrous electric blue cocktail with no fewer than four fruit garnishes. Charlie was nowhere to be found.

As soon as they were within earshot, Lee started up a clearly rehearsed tirade about how if Alicia was going to switch the reservation to her name, she couldn't also be late. He made it barely a sentence-and-a-half in before she cut him off. "So who was it that forgot _protego praegnatus_?"

Lee choked on a chunk of pineapple.

Katie stared very pointedly at the chalkboard menu – the evening's special was tikka – but she could still feel George's glare boring into her. After the lecture he'd given her on keeping secrets, it was no wonder he'd assume that she'd let it slip.

Alicia had also noticed the glare, and wasn't having it. "She didn't tell me! No one told me!"

"Al," said Angelina, in the soothing tones of a chimeara tamer. "The whole point of this dinner was to tell you."

"Hold on just one minute!" Lee cut in. The drink in his hands came dangerously close to sloshing over its rim. "She's not being mental? You're really having a baby?"

George took a deep breath in like he meant to answer, but Alicia didn't give him the chance. "Why would you assume I'm being mental, you ponce?"

"Don't call me a ponce, you muppet."

"Don't call me a muppet, you–

"Table's ready."

In the shadowy entranceway of the restaurant was Charlie, looking utterly perturbed by the shouting match he had walked out into. Even distracted as she was by the disaster unfolding before her, she noted that he looked very fit. His button-down was white and clean, and the hems of his jeans were un-ripped. He'd even gone so far as to trade his dragonhide work boots for derbies.

"Charlie!" George cried. If he had a free hand, he probably would have clapped his brother on the back. "We're having a baby!"

A long, disjointed string of tentative nods later, Charlie answered, "Congratulations?"

Voice so high and tight that for a moment Katie thought Alicia was speaking, Angelina said, "Thank you! Thanks. Let's go inside, shall we?"

Without another word, Angelina gripped George tight around his waist and dragged him into the restaurant. He didn't look back, although the tension in his neck seemed to indicate that he wanted to. Eyes still wide, Charlie let them pass, then followed. Alicia, never one to be left behind, charged after them.

All that was left were Lee and Katie – lifelong friends with a rather new layer of tension between them thanks to his repeat visits to her flat. Lee took a noisy sip of his drink through its bendy straw.

"So," said Katie, when she was sure they rest of their party was out of earshot, "are you two, y'know, a thing now?"

Lee scrunched his nose up in apparent distaste. This was not an expression Katie was used to seeing on him. Maybe Alicia was having more of an effect than she'd feared. "Don't be daft. How hack would that be, if we paired off? If I'd known when I was picking friends in first year I was also signing myself up to some kind of lifelong romance, I would've sat in a different carriage. Me and Alicia. Don't make me laugh."

"Lee?" Katie hazarded. He seemed to be going a bit off the rails.

"Don't get me wrong," he said, getting louder as he went on, "she's brilliant. People think she's dumb because she talks about things like, I dunno, ideal dinner salad ratios and how Quidditch WAGs spend their Sundays. But she's, like, proper smart. And funny? And – _and_ – if that wasn't all bad enough, she's got an arse that absolutely does not quit."

It took all Katie had not to laugh. "Lee!"

"Sorry, Kates. She has an arse that generally arrives on time to its abbreviated weekday shifts and produces good enough work that it's been moving up through the ranks. That better?" This time, Katie did laugh. Apparently buoyed by the sound, he flashed her a quick smile. "And I lied, that's not the worst part. The worst part is it doesn't even bother me anymore when she chatters. I've started enjoying listening to her talk."

"You li- _i_ -ike her," Katie wheedled. Her cheeks already hurt from smiling. Watching Lee struggle with human emotions was almost worth whatever else might happen that night.

He took another long, furtive sip of his blue drink. When he was finished, he opened and closed his mouth like he was going to say something, but it was a few more seconds before he managed, "Keep it to yourself."

And with that, he, too, darted inside the restaurant.

Not wanting to stand alone in the street, Katie made her own way inside Rosa Lee's. Also not wanting her nervous bladder to act up during dinner, she then made a beeline for the toilets.

The way the restaurant was set up made it all but impossible for anyone who hadn't been there before to find the facilities. You had to pass the open kitchen, go all the way to the end of a narrow corridor, turn left into another, smaller hall, and then try your best to remember which of the unmarked doors was the toilet, and which was the broom closet. She did all this very quickly – at least up until the final third of the first corridor, at which point two voices coming from the small hall stopped her in her tracks.

The voices were distinct, but too quiet for her to identify them. In all likelihood, it was a couple of waiters whinging about their tables. Katie wasn't worried about sending them back to work. She started back up again.

It was not waiters.

Two orange heads were all she made out before her sudden about-face. If George and Charlie were finally talking, she did not want to interrupt halfway through. At best, they would stop and awkwardly pretend that they hadn't been talking about her. At worst, there would be a row. Still, something not even all that deep inside her wanted – needed, maybe – to know what they were saying. She flattened herself against the wall around the corner and listened.

"George," said Charlie, rumbling voice so low it was nearly a whisper. "I want to apologize."

"What for, Timmy?"

It was a nickname Katie had never heard before. The twins had bunches for their siblings — a very abbreviated list for Charlie included Number Two, Dragon Lady, and Vlad. It didn't take long to figure out that _Timmy_ stood for Septimus, his middle name, but a logical etymology didn't make her feel any less intrusive hearing it. She pressed closer to the wall.

"What do you think?"

"If I had to guess, I'd say the time you ripped the seams on my Cannons jumper trying to fit it over your grotesque sixteen-year-old body."

Charlie coughed out a laugh. "Bugger off. I'm serious."

"So am I," said George. "I was planning on looking sharp on the Express. Nothing makes a good first impression like matching your hair to your outfit. Fred still had his, but the effect wouldn't've been the same if just one of us did it."

Still chuckling, Charlie said, "And _grotesque_?"

"I stand by it. Those were muscles no teenager should have."

The laughter trailed off. Solemn now, he started, "George…"

"Don't apologize."

"What do you—"

"Don't apologize," George said again, firmer this time. Any seriousness he had disappeared as soon as it had come, though. "If you do, I'll have to, and I'm bollocks at it."

For a long moment, they were silent. Katie was afraid the conversation was over, and any passing second would have them leaving the hall and finding her. Then, Charlie said, "C'mere."

The floorboards creaked.

"I love you," Charlie said, voice muffled as if he were talking into George's shoulder.

"Love you, too, you lump." George cleared his throat, loudly. "Easily in my top six favorite siblings."

The floorboards creaked again. Hug over, if Katie had to guess. Bladder forgotten amongst her desperation not to get caught eavesdropping, she went as quickly and quietly as she could back to the dining room. Still half-running, she weaved between candlelit tables towards her friends in a secluded back alcove.

"Where've you been?" Lee said, by way of greeting. His hand was on Alicia's knee, the contact not quite hidden by the white tablecloth. "Any longer and Ang would have eaten all the bread."

A full two-thirds of a roll in her mouth, Angelina managed a thick, "Ha ha."

Katie slipped into the open seat on Alicia's other side. The brothers Weasley were in sight on the far side of the room, much more amiable than they had been outside. She didn't answer Lee.

She didn't need to, it turned out. As soon as they were close enough not to need to yell, George said, "I'm surprised there's bread left."

Still chewing, Angelina said, "Fuck off."

Laughter rippled in waves around the table. Any unease that had existed between the six of them disappeared, easily and effectively as if someone had cast a charm over the restaurant. In no time at all, they were eating and chatting and carrying on. This was what she had missed, Katie realised. Living with Alicia and seeing Lee at the Ministry (and in her sitting room at half eleven) was well and good, but it couldn't compare to a dinner with friends. There was good food and better cheer, and when Angelina rested her head on George's shoulder and insisted that she wasn't falling asleep, just resting her eyes, none of Katie's familiar bitterness rose up in her chest. She was content. It had been a while, so long that she wasn't quite sure what the emotion was at first, but there it was.

And, to make it all the more lovely, Charlie held her hand through pudding.


End file.
